


Northward-bound

by Untherius



Series: The Sun-Bearer Chronicles [6]
Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Bioluminescence, F/M, Hiking, Married Sex, Matchmaking, Pacific Crest Trail, Severe bodily injury, Time Travel, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 106,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eugene and Rapunzel set off on their honeymoon.  Along their 2,650-mile journey to Manning Park, they forge new friendships, face challenges of which neither of them had dreamed, and make discoveries of each other that will shape their long future together.  They're joined by Rapunzel's parents, Howl and Sophie for the first 110 miles of their pilgrimage.  During this first stretch of their journey, Eugene and Rapunzel acquire their trail names and Rapunzel discovers another useful ability afforded her by the sun-blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Campo to Warner Springs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to include some photos of my own PCT hiking as visual aids. I'll be adding more as my hiking progresses.  
> http://s96.photobucket.com/user/Thistillium/library/Pacific%20Crest%20Trail?sort=3&page=1

One by one, they stepped through an out-of-the-way door in a nondescript building on a side street of the small border town of Campo. Howl and Sophie went first, followed by Harold and Liesel and then by Eugene and Rapunzel. The other two couples were to accompany the newlyweds as far as Warner Springs, 110 miles from here. When they were all through, Howl shut the door and closed the portal.  
They were all dressed and equipped with the latest in ultralight backpacking gear, with a few exceptions. Eugene insisted on his heavy boots, despite multiple objections from multiple people. Rapunzel was bare-footed, as always—also despite objections from Neil and his friends--and wore a knee-length tunic of sorts. Sophie and Liesel each wore a very lightweight shin-length dress. Sophie wore relatively lightweight mid-calf doeskin boots—these were less for lower leg protection and more to hide her dewclaws, which Howl thought might be distracting to other hikers, since they weren't yet ready to go public about the Ingarians. It was barely light and a chilly east breeze stirred up the dust.

“Brrr! I thought you said this was a desert,” said Liesel.

“It is,” said Rapunzel.

“Aren't deserts supposed to be hot?”

“That's the thing about deserts, Mama. They're hot during the day and cold at night.”

“Did you learn that in the future, too?” asked Eugene.

“No, silly. Geography lessons. Weren't you paying attention?”

“I never expected to ever encounter an actual desert, though.”

“Now where are we going again?” asked Harold.

Eugene pulled a copy of the PCT Atlas out of his hip pouch and consulted the first page. “That way,” he said, pointing south.

“I thought it went north,” said Sophie dubiously.

“It does, but first we're headed to the Southern Terminus monument, which is about a mile south.” He put the book back and then they all extended their trekking poles.

“Now once again, what are these and how do we use them?” asked Liesel.

“They're called trekking poles,” said Rapunzel. “Observe.” She headed off down the street, the poles wagging rhythmically. The rest of them followed.

A half-hour stroll brought them to the monument.

“I'm not so sure about these things,” said Liesel.

“Me neither,” said Sophie.

“I've been walking around for years without so much as a staff,” said Eugene. “Are you sure I need these?”

Rapunzel cocked her head quizzically. “Oh. There's your problem. Not one of you has them adjusted properly.” She re-adjusted everyone's poles, supplying commentary on their proper use and some of the biomechanics involved. She sighed. “Maybe I should have had Neil give us that crash course.”

“Don't worry,” said Howl, “there will be a great many people at Lake Morena who can give us enough advise to choke a qlak'orgh.” That made Sophie shudder.

They took the obligatory photos by the monument. Harold looked over at the border fence. “They have metal walls in the future?”

“Yeah,” said Rapunzel. “They have a lot of really weird things in the future. You saw some of it at Howl's place. Try not to let it bother you. Oh, we should sign the Trail Register.” She opened it to the most recent unwritten part. The rest crowded around her and they started reading some of what was already there.

“Yogi...Switchback the Trail Pirate...Meadow Ed...Warner Springs Monty...Lightning-Rod...Halfmile...JMT Reinhold...Steel-Eye...Firefly...Postholer Dan...Erik the Black...who are these people?” said Eugene.

“They're hikers,” said Rapunzel.

“They sound more like those characters at the Snuggly Duckling.”

“With names like that, do you think we can safely use our real ones?” said Harold.

“Those are trail names,” said Howl, “but, yes, I think we can do that without running afoul of temporal causality.”

“And just...what should we write in here?” asked Sophie.

“Whatever you want,” said Rapunzel.

They each wrote something in the registry, using their real names, then turned around and headed north.

“Now, how far is it to this Lake Morena?” said Harold.

Eugene pulled out the Atlas again and peered at it. “Twenty miles.”

“Twenty miles of _this_?” said Liesel, looking in disgust at the dirt road that stretched out before them.

“It gets better,” said Rapunzel apologetically, “trust me. Oh, wait...is everyone wearing their sunscreen?”

“Oh, right,” said Howl. He took out a small plastic bottle of something.

“Um...” said Harold.

“Nobody move,” said Howl. He pulled the cap off the bottle and then one by one, placed a tiny dab on each person's forehead. Each dab disappeared shortly after application. Rapunzel refused it.

“What about you?” said Harold to his daughter.

“I don't get sunburned,” said Rapunzel.

“You don't?” continued her father dubiously. “How do you know?”

“Remember that day last summer when we all went out on the water?” They nodded. “Remember that everyone had a sunburn by the end of the day except me?” They nodded again. “That's how...that, and I draw energy from it.”

Everyone looked at everyone else, then Howl stowed the bottle and they all resumed walking.

*****

They stood atop the southern rim of Hauser Canyon, Lake Morena visible in the distance. The creek far below was hidden from view.

“We go down there?” said Harold.

Rapunzel nodded.

“And back up the other side?” said Liesel.

Rapunzel nodded again.

“Why do they not put a...bridge over it?” said Sophie.

“This is the PCT,” said Rapunzel, “they don't just build bridges any old place.”

“There should be water down there,” said Eugene, “which is good because I only have a half-liter left.”

A descending traverse took them to the bottom of the canyon where, sure enough, there was plenty of water.

“Wait,” said Rapunzel, “There might be Giardia.”

“What's Giardia?” said Liesel.

“It's a particularly unpleasant intestinal illness. It's in a lot of the water here...or so they say. Boiling for a few minutes kills it.”

They removed their packs and began rummaging. Rapunzel brought out a small titanium kettle, dipped it into the creek and held it in her hand.

“I don't see any fire-starters in here,” said Howl.

“Leave that to me.” At that, the water in her kettle began to boil. “Hand me another one.”

“You were right,” said Howl to Eugene, “she _is_ the hottest woman in the world.” That brought a round of laughter.

An hour later, with a good late lunch eaten and all water bottles full, they began the long climb up to the canyon's north rim. A couple of hours later, they arrived at the top, all sucking serious wind.

“This is supposed to be fun?” said Eugene between breaths.

“We just haven't found the rhythm of the trail yet,” said Rapunzel.

“If you say so,” said Howl.

“Shall we pause for a break?” said Liesel.

“Yes, let's,” said Harold.

After a good 20-minute break, they were all good to go. Soon the trail leveled out and they were on their final descent to the lake. Their destination in sight gave all a good morale boost. Rapunzel began to bounce and was soon skipping down the trail singing a song. The tune sounded familiar to Eugene.

“I could be running and jumping, and leaping and bounding, and slipping and sliding, and gliding and hiking, and coming and going, glissading, postholing, here's where my hike begins!”

“And to think we missed out on eighteen years of that,” said Liesel.

“Indeed,” said Harold.

“She's so cute,” said Eugene.

*****

They strolled into the campground at Lake Morena County Park. It was just before dusk and very hard to see. Everyone but Rapunzel was wearing an illuminated LED headlamp.

“So where are we to be camped?” asked Harold.

“That way,” said Eugene.

He led them across the campground, to the very northern edge where they might have something resembling privacy, which none of them realistically thought they'd have in a place like this anyway.

“Um...where are our tents?” asked Liesel.

“In your pack,” said Eugene.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, it's in Harold's pack.”

Harold and Liesel looked at each other. “You must be kidding,” said Harold. “Something like that wouldn't physically fit in here. Not to mention that it would weigh ten times what this whole thing does.”

“You'd be surprised how much things change over the next few hundred years...apparently.”

“Apparently?” said Liesel.

“This is my first time visiting the future,” said Eugene apologetically. “I've just been doing a lot of studying. Say, have either of you actually opened your packs yet?”

“Only once,” said Harold, “and that was to add something. And at that creek. So, no, I really have no idea what's in here.”

“Well, then, you're in for some surprises over the next couple of weeks,” said Eugene optimistically.

Howl and Sophie had already opened their packs and Howl pulled out a large bundle that seemed to take up half his pack's volume. He opened it and rolled it out onto the ground. He picked up what looked like a bundle of small sticks held together by a cord and deftly assembled them end-to-end into one long, very flexible pole. Then he inserted it into one side of the rolled-out bundle, fed it through a series of internal pockets and out the other side. He braced both ends into grommets and the pole sprang into an arch, lifting the fabric with it. A few quick stake placements around the perimeter held it upright with its own tension. All that took less than five minutes. Then he stood back with a satisfied grin. He assured everyone that he hadn't used magic.

“What is _that_?” asked Harold.

“It's a tent,” said Howl. “A TarpTent Double Rainbow, to be precise.”

“The future really is strange.”

“You have no idea.”

“And...all these people carry these?” asked Liesel.

“Or something like it.” Howl gestured toward the rest of the campground. “You'll see a lot more of it out there tomorrow.”

Harold and Eugene dug into their packs and pulled out their own tents. “I watched you do that,” said Harold, eying his still-rolled-up tent dubiously. “Surely the Romans had an easier time with this.”

Eugene began to wrestle with his. Howl helped him with it and then the two of them helped Harold.

“Don't worry,” said Howl, “you'll get plenty of practice between here and Warner Springs. After that, well, you'll be on your own.”

“It's been a long day,” said Harold, “and my feet hurt.”

“Mine, too,” said Liesel.

“That...” began Sophie. She paused, frowned, then launched into something in her own language that sounded like it was meant to be a diatribe about something. After a minute, she stopped talking and sat there pouting.

“I take it she's still having trouble with English?” said Eugene.

“She always will. Do you blame her, though?” said Howl. “Honestly, I'm really not surprised Neil and Mari started speaking Ingarian more than English. Anyway, back to business. What my wife meant to say is that we should all kick off our shoes,” then glanced at Rapunzel's bare feet, “well, those of us who wear them, check for blisters and then eat dinner.”

“Food?” said Rapunzel perking up.

“Right,” said Sophie, having regained her composure, “blisters first, then food. Agreed?”

They all nodded, then put their packs into their tents, sat down on the grass, removed their shoes and began to examine their feet. Fortunately, this was just as easily done by headlamp as by sunlight. Harold was developing deep proto-blisters under the pads on the balls of his feet right behind his toes. Liesel had small, broken friction blisters on the backs of her heels. Eugene's feet looked like they'd had multiple blisters in multiple places begin and abort. Howl, Sophie and Rapunzel were completely blister-free.

“I can fix all these now,” said Sophie, “but, they will return if we do not solve the problem. I would rather not do that always for the next week and you,” she indicated Eugene and Rapunzel, “will be without my skills between Warner Springs and Kennedy Meadows. We...” she trailed off, clearly become flustered once again.

Howl continued for her. “I think we should consult at least one of the foot and the blister specialists here. And we'll want something to show them so that they have an accurate view of the problem. They'll also be able to make specific and practical recommendations. We should do this after tomorrow's breakfast.” There were nods of assent all around and then everyone dove into their food sacks for a cold dinner.

After a minute or two, Eugene looked at his wife and broke the silence. “You say people do this for entertainment?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And I suppose people run for fun, too?”

“Yes,” said Howl.

Eugene groaned. “You people are strange,” he said to no one in particular.

*****

The sun rose on the campground and Rapunzel was already out on the grass waiting for everyone else to emerge. Dinner had been meager, according to her, and she was eager to go off to find what she called a “real breakfast.”

“So,” said Eugene, “what are we going to do today?”

“The same thing we do every day, Pinky,” said Howl, “try to take over the Trail!” Everyone else looked at him quizzically. “Never mind.”

“Breakfast!” said Rapunzel.

“Aye!” said Howl. “Breakfast!”

They walked a half-mile or so into the town of Lake Morena and found a small cafe. They each had an omelet—Rapunzel had two, a pile of hash browns and several pancakes.

Full from breakfast, they walked back to the campground to check out the grand cacophony that was well on its way to being in full swing. It was the morning of the Annual Day Zero Pacific Crest Trail Kick-Off. It reminded them of a bazaar gone mad. Throughout the camp were pitched hundreds of tents, most of which were of a vaguely Roman design, but made of strange materials. At the center of the park were pitched over two dozen tents of other kinds from which merchants hawked their wares of a kind only Howl had ever seen before.

“What _is_ this?” said Liesel, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and fear.

“This is the Annual Day Zero PCT Kick-Off,” said Rapunzel.

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy,” added Howl, “We must be cautious.”

“I thought I'd left scum and villainy behind with my old life,” said Eugene, looking around. “Funny...none of these people look particularly scummy or villainous.”

“Oh, they're not,” said Howl, “I was just being silly. Quite the opposite, really. Hikers are the friendliest, most helpful folks you'll ever meet...outside of Wales or New Zealand, that is.” Sophie glared at her husband. “And New Ingary...and associated communities,” added Howl. Sophie's expression lightened up again.

“That's a relief,” said Eugene.

“Besides, why do you think they call it a hiker community?” asked Rapunzel.

Their first objective was troubleshooting their blister issues. Howl translated for Sophie, who had further trouble discussing human anatomy in English. Several hours, a decent lunch, a blown sound system--thanks to someone who'd held a microphone too close to Rapunzel—and a shower later, they were all back in camp again, stretched out on the grass.

“I'm getting hungry,” said Harold. “Shall we do something about dinner?”

“Ooo!” said Rapunzel excitedly. “Please!”

“Perhaps the Princess and I can go for food while Sophie works on those blisters?” There were nods of assent. “Is there something you have in mind, or shall we surprise you?”

“Surprise us,” said Eugene.

“Are you sure that's safe?”

“No, but do it anyway.” They all chuckled.

Another hour later, Howl and Rapunzel had returned with six large hamburgers and a big bag of fried potato slices. A separate box held just the guts of a burger and a couple of soft tacos for Sophie, who, being Ingarian, was lactose- and gluten-intolerant. Sophie had made relatively short work of their blisters. Howl passed out the food and they all went to work on it.

“Wow!” said Harold between bites, “this is good. What is it?”

“It's a hamburger,” said Howl. “It was supposedly invented in Hamburg in the late eighteenth century. As such, as far as you're concerned, this meal is highly classified.”

“Which means what precisely?” said Harold.

“Which means you're not supposed to know about it and it officially doesn't exist.”

“It sure tastes good for something that doesn't exist,” said Liesel before taking another bite herself. Everyone laughed.

Then they dug into the bag of fried potatoes. “Now these I recognize,” said Harold. “They're a bit salty, though.”

Rapunzel started to bite into a second hamburger when Liesel frowned at her. “Why do you get two?”

Rapunzel raised an eyebrow, paused, and then resumed eating. “Remember that unusually high body temperature?” said Howl. Liesel nodded. “Remember that raging furnace of sun-blood?” She nodded again.  
“That's why.”

“You should see what I put into her bear can for our Kennedy Meadows resupply,” said Eugene.

Rapunzel raised another eyebrow. Eugene just smiled and kept eating.

Afterward, they all sat there staring out at the campground, watching its activity slowly winding down as the daylight faded. Eugene got up and began to massage Rapunzel's shoulders, which drew pleasant sounds from her. Howl and Harold followed suit with their own wives. As it grew dark, they spotted a fire out in the center of a large graveled area across camp. “Oo!” said Rapunzel, “A bonfire!”

“I thought that was sort of forbidden out here,” said Eugene, “fire danger and all.”

“I overheard some people talking about it while we were getting food,” said Howl. “Something about it having rained every day all week and there being no wind today. Somebody's sure to shut it down, though.”

“Shall we go over there until they do?” said Rapunzel.

“Yes,” said Eugene, “let's.”

They all got up, put their camp shoes back on and left camp, Eugene quickly grabbing something out of his pack first. It wasn't a large fire, just a small pile of a few logs, but still a good meter across. Chairs, benches and larger logs had been placed in a social circle around it. The six all found spots on one of these logs. Someone was at the tail end of a supposedly scary camping story. It was followed by a string of hikers' no-kidding-there-I-was tales of things gone wrong up in the snow or crossing a stream or dealing with a recalcitrant rattlesnake or the blisters that just wouldn't die or any number other things than can befall a hiker out on the trail. Eugene and Rapunzel looked at each other worriedly.

“Don't mind them,” said a hiker sitting next to them on the same log. “It's just the Vortex of Fear at work.”

Eugene looked back at his wife. “Vortex of Fear? That wasn't in your...er...presentation.”

She shrugged sheepishly.

The hiker continued. “Yeah, stuff can go wrong out here. But it can also go wrong back home. It's all about risk management. There are risks out here and risks back home. They're just different ones and you just have to learn how to deal with the new ones.”

Eugene decided it was time for something different, so he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small tin whistle of the type often called an Irish penny-whistle. “Music?” he said. After a few nods, he began to play. It was slow at first as he warmed up, but then it progressed to something rather Irish-sounding.

Rapunzel hopped up off the log, struck an initial dance pose and began to move to the music. Her bare feet bounced off the gravel as she whirled around and around. Onlookers began to clap along with the beat. The tempo sped up and her feet pounded the ground harder and harder, her body moving with more and more energy as she whirled around the fire. Without warning, she reached out with a toe and deftly picked up a glowing, golf-ball-sized ember from the fire and began to toss it from foot to foot. Encouraged by the crowd, she grabbed another one and started juggling the two with her feet. After more prompting, she tossed the embers back into the fire and leaped over it, back and forth, back and forth. With growing cheering, she jumped into the fire and began to dance around in it scattering burning logs here and there, sparks flying up into the sky. Jaws dropped, but Eugene kept playing, trying not to roll his eyes. After a couple of minutes, she leaped back out of the fire, kicked all the still-burning logs back into the center and, as Eugene brought the tune to a resolution, took a bow to the sound of enthusiastic applause and whistles.

“Dude,” said a hiker standing behind Eugene. “She's hot!”

He looked over his shoulder. “You have no idea,” he said with a grin, then turned back toward the fire.

“Say, I don't think we got your name,” said another hiker from across the circle.

“Rapunzel.”

“Is that your trail name?”

“Um...no. I don't have one yet.”

“How about Firedancer?”

“Nah,” said another hiker, “she's far too intimate with it, man. She practically _walks_ with fire!”

“Fire _walker_?” said another.

Rapunzel furrowed her brow pensively for a few moments. “Firewalker...I think I like that.”

“Firewalker it is!” Dozens of water bottles were then thrust into the air in the manner of a toast. “To Firewalker!” came a chorus of voices.

Rapunzel stood there beaming for a moment, then twirled around and sat deftly down on the log next to her husband, who smiled at her warmly. “Show-off,” he teased quietly, gently judging her with a shoulder. She just giggled softly.

They all decided to seek showers again before heading back to camp. The sun long set, they all lay on the grass looking up at the stars.

“They are beautiful, are they not?” said Sophie.

“What?” said Eugene.

“The stars. I never just look at them anymore.”

“Because you're from a galaxy far, far away?”

“Well, it is...was...still in this galaxy, but, yes, that is close enough.”

“Besides,” added Howl, pointing to Sophie's silvery locks, “why do you think her hair's that color?”

“Um...I hadn't thought about it. I figured it was an Ingarian thing. Besides, I've been quite distracted by my own ray of sunshine,” said Eugene, inclining his head toward his wife, who batted her eyelashes at him.

“Let's just say that Rapunzel...excuse me, Firewalker...isn't the _only_ one here with stars in her eyes, so to speak.”

They all looked quizzically at Sophie. “Starfire is not the same as sun-tears or sun-blood, but....”

“Three more extraordinary individuals,” said Howl, “and we'll have our own Fellowship! We already have the Ring,” he added, pointing at Rapunzel's left hand.

“What?” said Eugene.

“Never mind.”

“But Liesel and I aren't extraordinary,” said Harold, “well, at least I'M not,” he added, patting his wife's hand.

“You don't give yourselves enough credit,” said Rapunzel. “Mama, you gave birth to me. Daddy, you had the courage to give her the sun-tear elixir, which ultimately made it possible for me to be what I am now.”

“Which is...?”

“I'm a Sun-bearer, Daddy.”

Harold sighed, then wordlessly got up, walked over and gave his daughter a good, firm hug. She hugged him back.

“We'd better turn in,” said Howl, “tomorrow's a busy day.” They all got up and retired to their tents.

Back in their tent, Eugene and Rapunzel lay there beneath a light sheet. He nuzzled up to her.

“Do you think we should do this?” she whispered.

“Why not?” he whispered back.

“I've heard some rumors about it spoiling the purity of the hike.”

“We're on our honeymoon. I think we have special dispensation.”

“I like how you think,” she said as she kissed him. He kissed her back....

A short while later, they lay there listening to the sounds all around them, the glow from Rapunzel's skin fading.

“It sounds like we've been...er...inspiring,” said Eugene.

She giggled a little.

“It's a good thing we only need this sheet,” he said.

“Why's that?”

“It's very lightweight and, well, easier to...um...clean.”

She giggled again. “Oh, Eugene, you do know how to sweet-talk a girl,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

Rapunzel cuddled up to her husband. “Repeat?”

“What about that children thing? I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Besides, do you really want to be slogging through northern Washington six-months pregnant?”

“How do you know I'm not already?”

“Are you?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea! It's all part of the adventure, the one that ends with the trail _and_ the one that ends with the world.”

“You're good!”

“Am I, now?” she said seductively.

“When you're on thin ice...” he said as he took her in his arms and kissed her....

They eventually fell asleep in each other's arms, Rapunzel's soft glow fading into the surrounding darkness.

*****

Eugene awoke alone. He donned his shorts and poked his head outside. Rapunzel sat on the grass in the lotus position facing the not-quite-risen sun, her head tilted back. He crawled out bare-chested and sat down next to her, also in the lotus position, and tilted his head back too. She reached over and took his hand in her own. They sat there together wordlessly for several minutes.

“It's a bit chilly out here,” he finally said.

“I don't mind.”

“That's because you're hotter than I am.”

“I disagree.”

He chuckled. They sat there for a few more minutes.

“Feel that?” she said.

“I'm feeling a lot of things. Is there...anything in particular I should be feeling?”

“It's...sort of like a tingly tickle...but down in the depths of your soul...like it pervades your entire being.”

Eugene thought for a moment. “Yes...yes, I do think I feel something like that. It's kind of subtle, though.”

“Yes, yes it is. I've felt it my whole life. Only recently it's been growing stronger.”

“I was going to say it's being in love with you.”

She giggled a little. “It was never about the hair.”

“What?”

“Calcifer...Howl's energy friend on Ingary...said something about sun-tears. I still don't quite know what that means, but whatever it is, I think it's something inside me, something that gave my hair its power.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because after you cut off my hair and it all turned brown, I cried over you as you lay dying. One of my tears fell on you and I saw it...blossom into a...a sun-flower. And then I watched it gather up all the energy in the room while it healed you. Could that have happened if it were just my hair? And then there's the matter of the sun-blood.”

Eugene sat there in silence.

“I'm a Sun-bearer, Eugene. Those...sun-tears...they're still in here,” she said, pointing to her own chest. “I can feel it. I don't know what it means or how it will change things, but there's no one else in the whole world with whom I'd rather share that journey.” She squeezed his hand.

“If grow any more in awe of you, I just might explode.”

She giggled. “No, dearest, I don't think you'll explode.”

Their moment was cut short by the sound of tents unzipping behind them. Howl, Sophie, Harold and Liesel extracted themselves, blinking in the new dawn.

“Good morning, all!” said Rapunzel cheerfully.

“Erg. Morning people,” grumbled Howl.

“Indeed,” said Liesel.

“We made something for you, dear,” said Harold to Rapunzel, “We would have given it to you sooner, but I had to stay up late last night finishing it. Then we were...ahem...distracted, as it were.”

Liesel blushed a little.

“So, do you think her Highness will get any siblings out of that?” asked Howl.

Sophie elbowed him in the ribs. “ _You're incorrigible_!” she said in Ingarian.

“I didn't hear YOU complaining last night,” he said defensively and in English. Sophie blushed. “Although I think we may see a flush of, shall we say, second-generation through-hikers in a couple of decades just from last night.”

Eugene and Rapunzel looked at each other in surprise.

“I was talking more about them,” said Howl gesturing toward the rest of the campground.

“I...uh...guess they _did_ hear us,” said Rapunzel.

“Are you kidding?” said Howl. “The whole _town_ heard you!”

“ _Really, alskling,_ ” scolded Sophie, again in Ingarian, “ _you're impossible! Whatever am I going to do with you_?”

“Well...”

“Here,” said Harold, changing the subject and handing a small bundle to Rapunzel. “Open it.”

Rapunzel took it and undid the length of thin red-and-yellow card-woven trim that was tied neatly around it. Then she unfolded a layer of undyed muslin to reveal something red. She took it, handing the wrapping materials to Eugene. It was something in red cloth. She unfolded it, held it up and gasped in delight. In her hands was a lightweight silk-linen blend knee-length short-sleeved tunic. Embroidered prominently on its front were Rapunzel's new arms: Gules, a lily flower slipped and leaved enflamed between three suns Or. “It's beautiful!”

“Your father did most of the embroidery himself,” said Liesel. “I wove the trim he used to tie the bundle.”

Rapunzel took the trim from Eugene and ducked into their tent. A few moments later, she re-emerged dressed in the tunic with the trim tied around her waist as a sash. “Well?” she asked, showing off her new hiker clothes. The tunic fit perfectly, hanging just loosely enough to allow good movement and air flow, yet not baggy enough to be in the way.

“Impressive,” said Eugene.

“Most impressive,” said Howl with a faked deep bass voice.

“I guess we have a built-in test of workmanship,” said Harold.

“If it's still in good condition when I reach Manning, it's well-made, right?” said Rapunzel.

“Absolutely,” said Liesel.

They got to work packing up their gear and prepared to hit the trail.

“Remember,” said Howl as he struck his tent, “you must roll it up as tight as you can, or it'll never fit back into the bag.”

“Why not?” asked Harold.

“It's one of the annoying things about the future. Nothing ever fits back into the packaging the same way it was when you received it from the maker. I'm not sure why, but it seems to be a global constant when it comes to any manufactured good.”

“That's silly. Why not just make the packaging a little bit bigger?”

“It's another annoying constant. No company ever does the obviously sensible. What's odd about this case is that the guy who makes these is a hiker.” He shrugged.

A few minutes later, Eugene had his tent stuffed back in its bag and he knelt down to stow it in his pack. He glanced up to see his wife bending over hers, her back to him and he paused to take in the view.

“Are you ogling the Royal tush again?” said Howl.

“Absolutely,” he said cheerily. “Only this time I have a license,” he added, indicating his wedding band. Rapunzel looked over her shoulder and wiggled her tush a little for effect. Sophie snickered.

“You know,” said Harold to Liesel, “life certainly has been _much_ more interesting since she came into our lives.”

“The first time or the second time?”

Harold thought for a moment. “The first time...well, present circumstances notwithstanding, I wouldn't want to repeat that. Nor would I wish it on anyone. The second time was more inclusive of the present company...and, despite those missing years, more joyous, I think.”

Liesel thought for a moment. “I think you're right.” Then she leaned over and kissed him.

“Okay, gang,” said Howl, “everyone remember their blister prevention, their sunscreen and their hydration.” After everyone checked those things, he continued. “Let's roll!”

*****

Hikers had been streaming out of the campground since before first light, sometimes singly and sometimes in groups. The five-mile hike to Boulder Oaks Campground was more of a stroll compared to their first day and they took it as such. Other hikers occasionally passed them and the usual brief conversations ensued: gear selection; itinerary; food; water sources. Boulder Oaks was a nice enough place for a late lunch and would have been an equally good camping spot. With a few more hours of daylight, they pushed on toward the Laguna Hills. The next day, they crossed into the ponderosa pine forests capping the Laguna Mountains. The weather was still clear, although small white clouds had been drifting lazily high above since mid-morning. With lunch-time upon them, they chose a good level-ish spot and sat down to eat. The trees cast a mottled shade, providing a little relief from the heat. Years of needle-fall had built up a good layer of spongy duff, which was a welcome change from the dirt and rock they'd been using since Boulder Oaks.

“This is more like it!” said Liesel.

“I think we were all growing weary of all that...what's it called...chaparral?” said Harold.

Rapunzel nodded.

“And we've only had a few days of it!” said Howl.

“It is...hellish!” added Sophie.

“Um...” said Eugene looking at the map, “we still have a couple more days of it between the other side of this forest and Warner Springs.”

“Ugh,” said Howl. “I didn't even see anything like this in North Africa and there was nothing even remotely like it on Ingary.”

“At least you won't have to endure the Mojave Desert floor.”

“I think it sounds quite pleasant!” said Rapunzel cheerily. Eugene just shook his head in amusement and they all dug into their food.

The remainder of their day was passed beneath the dappled pine shade all the way to Burnt Rancheria Campground. They wasted no time pitching their tents and both Harold and Eugene were showing quickly-improving aptitude. Rapunzel cooked dinner, a re-hydrated stew that tasted great in the chill, slightly damp, air after a good day's hike. Then they all went to seek showers.

“I never thought a shower would feel that good,” said Howl after they'd returned to camp.

“I know!” squealed Rapunzel.

Harold shook his head, smiling. “Let's turn in.” They did so and soon they were all fast asleep.

*****

They awoke to a strange quality of light and slightly sagging tent roofs. Poking their heads outside revealed a good half-inch of fresh snow.

“Seriously?” said Eugene. “Is there anything this trail _isn't_ going to throw at us?”

“I doubt it,” said Rapunzel.

“The next thing you know,” said Liesel, “it's going to....”

“No!” said Howl. “Don't say the 'R' word! You'll jinx the whole thing.”

“Did this sort of thing happen to your nephew, Master Howl?” said Harold.

“Yes, yes it did,” said Howl as he and the others extracted themselves and their gear. “Every year, at some point, hikers will be strung out all the way from Campo to Kennedy Meadows. That's more than seven hundred miles of trail over several mountain ranges, slices of the desert and all the transition zones. It's not surprising that hikers will collectively experience every kind of weather than can happen out here.”

“I don't know whether to be reassured or alarmed.”

“Both?” said Rapunzel.

“Yes, my dear, you're probably right.”

“Besides,” added Eugene, “someone was saying something just the other day about all this just being part of the adventure.” He looked over at his wife, who smiled back at him.

All packed up, they trundled off into town—or what passed for a town here—for something resembling a good high-calorie country breakfast. Back on the trail, they moved on and after a few hours had left the forest to stand on a rim overlooking the Anza-Borego, a western sliver of the vast Mojave Desert.

“Wow,” said Harold.

“I take it back,” said Sophie, “it is not hellish. Stark, yes...hellish, not so much.”

“Just how can such a huge, gorgeous flower grow on something with such vicious spines all over it?” said Liesel pointing at an Opuntia. “And that, too,” she added, indicating a prickly-poppy with its enormous, papery white flowers.

“Alright,” said Eugene to Rapunzel, “my faith in this thing has been restored.”

“Mos Eisley Space Port,” began Howl.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

They stood there for a few minutes taking in the view before trundling on northward along the rim. A day later, they were weaving in and out through the innumerable gullies that cut through the infamous San Felipe Hills.

“One more gully, I will scream,” said Sophie. They hiked out of a gully, back out to toward the southwest and veered north, rounded a nose and came to...another gully. Sophie screamed.

“Very funny,” said Howl.

“No...” she said weakly and pointed to something on the trail right in front of her. They all crowded around her, then stiffened and froze. There, easily within striking distance of any one of them, was coiled a huge Mojave rattlesnake, nearly two meters long from its nose to the nearly two-dozen rattles at the tip of its tail.

“Oh, dear,” said Rapunzel softly.

“Is it...poisonous?” asked Harold.

“Yes,” said Howl nervously, “very.”

“Fortunately, rattlesnake bites are rarely fatal,” said Rapunzel.

“That isn't very reassuring,” said Eugene.

“It is...so...big,” squeaked Sophie.

“Now what?” said Eugene.

“Everyone don't move,” said Rapunzel.

“That's your plan?” said Howl. “My wife's front-and-center to that thing and...”

“Quiet!” she hissed, “I'm trying to concentrate.”

“On what?”

“Shhh!”

After a few more moments, the snake twitched a couple of times and then went limp. As they watched, something squirted from its ears, eyes and nostrils, followed by puffs of steam.

“Wow!” said Rapunzel. “That really worked!” She stepped around Sophie, prodded the snake with a pole, then reached down and picked it up.

Howl and Sophie hugged each other in relief. “What did you do?” he asked.

“I boiled its brain.”

“I'm in awe,” said Eugene. “But remind me to never make you angry.” She just giggled, then draped the snake over her shoulders.

“Why are you keeping the snake?” asked Harold.

“She who acts, eats dinner,” she said happily. “He who waits, _becomes_ dinner!”

“Wait, you mean to _eat_ that?” said Eugene.

“Why not? It's game, isn't it?”

“But didn't Howl say it's poisonous?” said Harold.

“Its _bite_ is poisonous,” Howl clarified, “but the meat isn't.”

“Like I said,” continued Rapunzel, “it's dinner!”

They continued on to Barrel Springs. A few hikers were already there, having set up their own camps. One of them looked up.

“Hey, guys, more hikers.” Then he saw the snake around Rapunzel's neck. “Holy s**t!” The others looked up and uttered similar cries of alarm.

“What?” said Eugene in confusion as his own party came to a halt.

“Those are Twenty-first-century expressions of surprise and alarm,” said Howl.

“I see,” said Harold.

“Conference?” said Eugene and they all got into a huddle. “We may have a slight problem. If we camp here...and we should, since there's room, there's shade, we're effectively out of water, we're running out of daylight and we're in no particular hurry to cover the last nine miles to Warner anyway...it might be a bit difficult to hide Rapunzel's abilities from them. They'll freak out.”

“I think they're already freaked out,” said Howl. “Fortunately, people here aren't even remotely as twitchy about things like that as they are in your time. As long as we don't overdo it, I think we'll be okay.”

“Did you not say just a few days ago that people fear what they don't understand?” said Harold.

“Yes, I did. And they still do. Basic human nature doesn't really change. Still, you'll find that hiker chaps are some of the most open-minded people you'll meet here. In point of fact, some of them hold beliefs that you would consider to be heretical nonsense.”

“What...sort of beliefs?” said Liesel.

“You name it, and you'll probably meet someone out here who believes it. There are people who hold to things that go back at least to the time of Noah and there are people who believe things that, from your perspective, haven't been invented yet. And, of course, there are those who claim to not believe much of anything at all.”

“Interesting.”

They broke the huddle and Eugene stepped forward. “Would you mind terribly if we were to camp with you?”

“Um...not really,” said one of the hikers uncertainly, “but...what's with the snake?”

“I killed it,” said Rapunzel matter-of-factly, “and I'm going to eat it.”

“Why'd you do that?”

“It was going to bite my friend,” she said evenly.

“So you just shot it?”

“What?”

“It was going to bite your friend, so you shot it,” he repeated.

“I did nothing of the sort,” she retorted. “Besides, crossbows are way too heavy.”

The hiker laughed. “That's a good one.”

“I don't know, dude,” said another hiker, “they're making some really nice, lightweight carbon composite miniatures these days.”

“Would you want to carry one?”

“Well, no, but there was that one German dude who lugged a cast-iron pan into the High Sierra.”

“And that other guy who went up there with a guitar!” said a third hiker.

“Hike your own hike, I guess.” Then he turned back to Rapunzel. “Okay, I guess it doesn't matter. Welcome to Barrel Springs. I'm Siskiyou Sam. This is R.C. Cola and that's his girlfriend Moonpie. This is Moose...he's from Canada...eh.”

“We don't always say, 'eh,'” said Moose.

“Yeah you do,” said Moonpie. “You've said it, like, twenty times just today!”

“Take off,” said Moose. Everyone chuckled, including Moose.

Eugene then did his own introductions.

“Hey, I thought I recognized you,” said R.C. Cola to Rapunzel, “you're that crazy gal who was dancing around in that fire.”

“Yes, that's me.”

“How'd you do that, anyway?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. Oh, hey, I think my dinner might be re-hydrated by now.”

They all broke up, the four went back to whatever they were doing and Eugene and his people set up camp on the far side of the hollow. Rapunzel surreptitiously heated all of their water, then took out a small straight-bladed knife and went to work on the snake. Eugene gave her some pointers, particularly when it came to organs like the gall bladder, which would spoil the whole thing if punctured, and the liver and kidneys, which were edible. Then he helped her with the skinning and carving, together arranging thin cuts of meat out on the grass. It occupied a surprising amount of surface area. The others, both of their own party and not, looked on in interest.

“So...just what is it you intend to do?” asked Howl, somehow knowing the answer.

“I'm going to cook it, of course.” Her tone indicated she thought it was obvious and that she knew that he already knew the answer before he asked the question.

“Do you...want any help with all that?” asked Siskiyou Sam.

“No, thank-you. I can handle it,” she said casually.

“Are you sure? Because, you know, I'm going to have surplus fuel when I roll into Warner Springs anyway.”

“She's sure,” said Eugene. “Trust me, when she's determined to do something herself, it's best to stay out of her way.”

“If you say so.”

She knelt down by the first row of meat and held her hands close over it. Soon, the few pieces directly under her hands began to steam and lightly sizzle. The smell of cooking meat permeated the camp.

“What's she doing?” said Sam.

“What do you think?” said Eugene, still not entirely sure it was a good idea to be doing this in front of strangers.

After a few minutes, she picked up two pieces and handed one to Eugene. “What do you think?” she asked him.

He bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. “I'd say that's about perfect. It has an interesting flavor, though. Are you going to cook all of this?”

“Well, I thought I'd dry some of it for later.”

“How'd you do that?” said Sam.

“It's complicated,” she said.

“I don't doubt it,” he said dubiously.

Rapunzel turned around and continued to cook, offering pieces as she went. Some of those went into the evening's stew. Everyone was impressed. When she'd cooked about a quarter of it, she re-positioned herself upwind of the remainder and let loose with a sustained heat wave. After a couple of hours, she declared it good enough for now, then she and Eugene gathered it up and placed it in leftover plastic bags that had once contained other food. She'd pull it back out once they reached Warner Springs. For now, though, the surfaces were thoroughly dry and the retardation of bacterial growth assured.

*****

The sun rose on Eugene and Rapunzel sitting there in the dawning light, taking their sunbath. They'd been up before first light and were already packed. Soon all the others stirred and, one by one, extracted themselves from their tents, bivvies, tarps, etc. Everyone ate a cold breakfast while they packed to save some time for the final push to Warner Springs. Both parties decided to hike together. Conversations were somewhat strained as the other hikers tried to avoid asking about Rapunzel's abilities and the Fitzherbert party tried to avoid revealing their temporal origins. Fortunately, hikers like to discuss nothing better than hiking. Since more than 2500 miles of trail still lay before them, this wasn't difficult. Eugene's background came to light and the other hikers bestowed upon him the trail name “Outlaw.”  
Rapunzel took out the snake meat during a lunch break and laid it out to dry it some more and share a little as a snack. Curiously, she found it was at least as good only partially cooked and she was unsure how she felt about that. She'd always eaten whatever Madrona Gothel had brought her, but she otherwise had very little idea what she should or should not be eating. The others in her party found it somewhat revolting until Harold mentioned steak tartar and Moonpie enlightened them concerning sushi.

They took the requisite photographs at Eagle Rock before beginning their final approach to Warner Springs across a gently rolling grassland, pleasant despite the heat. The parties split up as they rolled into the resort grounds and sought their respective accommodations.

“I take it back,” said Howl, “ _This_ is going to be the best shower _ever_!”

“I have never been so hot, sweaty, tired and dirty in my entire _life_!” said Sophie.

“Ladies don't sweat,” said Liesel.

“What?” said Howl.

“Horses sweat, men perspire, ladies glow,” said Liesel.

“Whomever said that clearly never did _this_!” said Sophie.

“Nevertheless, ladies do not sweat,” insisted Liesel.

“ _This_ lady sweats!” retorted Sophie.

“It doesn't look like mine does,” said Eugene looking at his wife. Sure enough, there didn't seem to be a drop of sweat on her.

“You may be right,” said Harold, “perhaps you _are_ married to a goddess.”

“Oh, Daddy,” said Rapunzel rolling her eyes. “It's just not hot enough for me to sweat.”

“I'm not sure I want to _go_ where it's hot enough for you to sweat,” Eugene teased. They all chuckled.

They decided to take a soak in one of the hot spring pools after checking in to their rooms but before dinner. Eugene had asked Howl to arrange for swimsuits to be waiting for them all in anticipation of a good soak or two in the hot springs.

“I look ridiculous,” said Harold as he and Liesel joined up with the others just outside the pools.

“You look fine,” said Liesel.

“You'll blend right in,” said Eugene, “just like you did on the trail.”

“Actually, you look quite svelte, if you don't mind my saying so,” said Rapunzel. “It must be all that sword-work.”

“Thank the Maker,” said Howl as they all stepped up to one of the rock-lined pools. “This oil bath is going to feel _so_ good!”

“What?” said Eugene. “Oil bath?”

“Never mind.”

One by one, they slipped into the water and leaned back, each making some wordless sounds of relief. They all sat there, eyes closed, heads leaned back, just letting the warm water soak away their aches and pains. After about twenty minutes, Liesel broke the silence.

“Is it my imagination, or is the water getting warmer?” she asked, eyes still closed.

“It could be just a normal fluctuation in the geothermal dynamics of the spring's hydrology,” said Howl.

“No,” said Rapunzel, “I'm pretty sure it isn't.” All eyes popped open and all heads abruptly swiveled in her direction.

“Please do not explode...again!” said Sophie quickly.

“It would be too eerily similar to the first time,” added Howl.

“No,” said Rapunzel calmly, her own eyes still closed, “I'm not going to explode.”

“Eugene?” said Harold uneasily, gesturing vaguely toward his daughter, “Is she...?”

Eugene looked down into the water. “Um...honey?”

“Hmm?”

“You're glowing.”

Now her eyes popped open. “I am?” She looked down and, sure enough, her skin was glowing. It was subtle, but there. “Oops,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry.” Then the glow faded.

“So...that _wasn't_ a night-light in your tent?” said Howl.

Rapunzel giggled. “Come now, Howl,” she said good-naturedly. “Why on earth would I be _carrying_ one of those? It would just be dead weight and I'd short it out anyway. You should know by now that I'm my own night-light. See?” She held up a finger and a small flame flickered to life at the end of it, then disappeared moments later.

“But... _why_ were you glowing?” said Howl.

“I don't know. I was relaxed and happy, I guess.”

“How long has she been doing that?” he said to Eugene.

“Um...” said Eugene hesitantly.

“Wait,” said Howl, “maybe it's best we not know that.”

“You,” said Eugene, putting an arm around his wife, “are just full of surprises, aren't you?”

“Yes, yes I am,” she said as she leaned over to kiss him.

“Alright, you two,” said Howl, “get a room.”

“Speaking of glowing,” said Rapunzel, returning her attention to Howl and Sophie, “what was that in your tent the other night?”

“I do carry a headlamp,” said Howl.

“That was no headlamp.”

“How can you tell?”

“It was entirely the wrong color either for incandescent or LED. The heat source wasn't concentrated enough for the former and much too high for the latter.” She tilted her head inquisitively. “What aren't you telling us?” she teased.

“Alright,” said Sophie with an indignant sigh, “I glow, too. Are you happy now?”

“So why do _you_ glow?” asked Liesel.

“I bear starfire...and it makes me glow," said Sophie indicating her silvery locks.

“Well,” said Howl, “it seems both our wives take their afterglow literally.”

“ _Howl Jenkins_!” exclaimed Sophie, lapsing back into Ingarian. “ _They were right about you_!”

“ _How's that_?” he replied in the same language.

“ _You really are quite lecherous_!”

“ _Only toward you, my dear._ ” He leaned over and kissed Sophie quite soundly.

“ _Now_ who needs to get a room?” said Eugene.

Rapunzel's stomach chose that moment to growl rather loudly. She put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. “Excuse me!”

“I think she's right,” said Harold, “I do believe it's time for dinner.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Oh,” said Sophie as she moved to rise from the pool. It was closer to a grunt or a groan than to a word. “I do not think I can move.”

“Yes, you can,” said Howl, although even he was moving slowly himself. Everyone ever so gingerly climbed out of the pool.

“Who'd have thought that a half-hour soak could have such a debilitating effect?” said Liesel.

“But in a good way,” groaned Eugene. “Although if it's going to be like this all the way to Manning, someone may have to push me across the border in a wheelbarrow.”

They all chuckled and returned to their rooms to change clothes for dinner. Another half-hour later, they were seated at a small local restaurant awaiting copious amounts of food. When it arrived, they all dug in with reckless abandon. Rapunzel ordered seconds.

“Are you _sure_ you're not eating for two?” said Liesel. Eugene squirmed a little.

“I'm a Sun-bearer!” she said indignantly. “I'm _already_ eating for two!” That brought a chuckle. “How do we know _you_ two aren't?” she added, gesturing with her fork to her mother and Sophie, both of whom blushed a little.

The sun was setting by then. “Maybe we'd better turn in,” said Eugene, changing the subject. “We have a rather full day tomorrow.”

“We do?” said Rapunzel. “Isn't tomorrow a zero day?”

“It is. But we have a full day of lounging around and relaxing.”

“You mean a full day of...” Howl was cut off by a jab in the ribs from Sophie. “Don't tell me you weren't thinking it, too,” he said to his wife.

“Of course I was thinking it,” she said, “but you do not have to _say_ it!”

Everyone chuckled and a few blushed. Howl generously paid their bill and they all walked out hand-in-hand toward their temporary domiciles.

“You know,” said Liesel, “It's almost too bad we're not all doing the whole thing together. They're awfully funny.”

“Hmm...” said Harold thoughtfully. “I've never been on someone _else's_ honeymoon before.” That brought more laughter. “Still, I think the original plan is best. Besides, Howl and Sophie are out here in real-time. Six months for them here really is six months for them back home and I don't think they'd planned for that.”

“No, sir,” said Howl, “No, we haven't. Besides, we're supporting them,” he said, indicating Eugene and Rapunzel.

“You know you don't have to call me that.”

“It's a habit. Being from a country with royalty and being married to someone from somewhere else with royalty...and, well, Sophie's been rubbing off on me. I used to be more relaxed about that sort of thing.” That brought a smile from his wife.

*****

Most of the next day was spent eating, soaking, and.... They all squeezed in some of the usual zero-day activities: doing laundry and getting their food and gear all packed up and ready to go for the next day. Howl would be taking care of transcribing their trail journals for them and he'd asked them to be mercifully vague in certain areas—a condition to which they'd readily agreed, particularly since they weren't sure they could actually bring themselves to write about it anyway. The morning after that, they were assembled in front of the small, out-of-the-way door Howl had selected for the portal from Warner Springs. They'd already checked out of their rooms. Howl, Sophie, Harold and Liesel were ready to go home and Eugene and Rapunzel were ready to forge onward toward the San Jacinto Mountains. Howl held a magical device in his hand. He placed it on the doorknob, activated it, then turned to Eugene.

“Don't lose this,” he said. “Otherwise it'll be really hard to find you and even harder for me to get to you. I expect there should be no shortage of abandoned buildings at San Gorgonio Pass, so no shortage of available doors. Do you remember how to use it?” Eugene nodded and then repeated the process verbally. “Good. Then we'll see you now and then to handle your resupplies. Otherwise, we'll meet up again at Kennedy Meadows. I'll send your folks home from Wales.”

“Have fun, you two,” said Harold, “And we'll see you at this Kennedy Meadows.”

“For the record,” added Liesel, “we still think you've taken leave of your senses.”

“It's a good thing we love you,” said Harold.

Everyone exchanged firm hugs. Then Howl, Harold and their wives stepped through the door, closing it behind them. Eugene removed the marker, placed it in its neoprene pouch, stowed it in his pack and then turned to his wife. “Shall we?”

“Let's!” They retraced their steps up the road to where they'd peeled off from the tread and once again stepped onto their northward-bound trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names appearing in the Southern Terminus trail register are the trail names of several real-life active members of the PCT community.
> 
> The Vortex of Fear mentioned by a hiker around the bonfire at Lake Morena came straight out of a thread on the PCT-L e-mail list. It's a term for a particular phenomenon that invariably occurs in places like trail towns where hikers congregate to stress out about whatever they've heard about some unsavory set of conditions further up the trail. Hiker will often work themselves up into a disproportional amount of worry over it, only to find that the dreaded fire is out, the forced detour really not that bad, the twenty feet of snow melted, etc.
> 
> Prickly pear cacti (genus Opuntia) are usually in bloom in SoCal during through-hiking season. Prickly poppies (genus Argemone) might be in bloom in early May in years in which the weather warms early or winter and spring have been abnormally wet...otherwise they'll bloom in June or July.
> 
> Mojave rattlesnakes can and do grow to six feet in length, although half that is much more common. Note that nearly all snakes in the West just want to be left alone and will invariably take full advantage of any opportunity to get away from you or make sure you stay away in the first place. Nearly all snake bites in SoCal are a result of, "Here, hold my beer and watch this!"
> 
> The references to a frying pan and a guitar made at Barrel Springs came out of a couple of online trail journals I read...it was the 2007 season, I think, maybe 2008. A German through-hiker had an otherwise ultralight gear setup...and a cast-iron skillet. This other guy bought a guitar in Lone Pine and lugged it back up into the Sierra with him.


	2. Whitewater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel plow through the San Jacinto Mountains, then plunge into the San Gorgonio Pass.

Outlaw's Log  
May 12, 2011  
Fuller Ridge Campground  
Miles: 13.4 Trip miles: 192.2

We awake this morning to more fresh snow. The wild daily temperature swings are still a challenge. At least it promises to be consistently cool until we're well on our way down the other side. Firewalker...remembering to use her trail name is not easy either...is still in good spirits, but the snow is beginning to wear on me. It may be because I'm not used to this...that is odd because I live with it every single winter back home, but it's somehow different here. I regard it as practice for the Sierra.

I take point again. That way I do all the post-holing and my feet take all the abuse. Despite her leather-hard calluses, I think her feet would be shredded if I weren't breaking trail for her. She hasn't complained, but I sense she may feel I'm being over-protective...which is understandable.

While breaking for lunch, we discuss some alternate strategies for handling snow. Most of these are with the Sierra in mind and all of them involve some variation of her melting it with her mind. While I'm not categorically opposed to that, there are certain other problems that might arise: possible erosion and a soggy and/or intermittently frozen tread at the bottom of what would become a small ice-wall canyon. In short, I'm certain that other hikers are unprepared for the activities of a Firewalker on the trail. We keep exploring options, though...post-holing is a very good way to hyper-extend a knee.

Firewalker is starting to eat the wildlife. It began with snack lizards on the way up into these hills, but now she's eating squirrels as well. I hope it's because of the additional demand of hiking in snow and high altitude. I've allowed for that going through the Sierra, but I somehow didn't think about it here. My own appetite has increased notably, so certainly has hers. I keep telling myself that it shouldn't bother me, that it's merely an unconventional hunting technique. Maybe it's because we seldom bother with anything smaller than a rabbit back home...I don't know. I keep encouraging her and hoping she doesn't notice. At least she cooks it first, but for all I know she expends as much energy killing and cooking it as she gets from eating it. It is, however, additional protein.

Hiking in snow sure is slow! I'm gratified that Firewalker made me read people's trail journals. Fortunately, other hikers have been through here already so at least there are reliable tracks. The traverse through the Devil's Slide area is tedious. It's quite snowed over and it looks like several people have already had trouble...there are spots where hikers appear to have slid a few meters and had to climb back up. I convince Firewalker not to try melting anything for fear it would make the snow unstable. We manage an uneventful passage, which is just as well since we won't have our ice axes until Kennedy.

We're so tired when we reach our intended camping spot, we simply eat a cold dinner and bed down. I suppose it's just as well, since we want to get up very early tomorrow anyway to get a good start on that bone-jarring descent down to San Gorgonio Pass. I just hope it's not like this often.

 

Firewalker's Log

It snowed again last night. I do love all the variation out here! Just when I begin to grow weary of desert or viewless trees or heat, something changes. It's glorious! I hope the rest of my life is like this. Hiking over snow is quite difficult, but we won't be on it for long and it's great practice for the Sierra.

Outlaw (It's kind of a silly name, but it so completely fits him.) insists on taking point. I'm sure I can handle it, but the snow is crusty and jagged despite existing footprints and he's afraid I'll shred my feet. I suppose I should appreciate his concern—it's a sign he loves me. Still, I feel like he's being over-protective and that irritates me. I decide to keep it to myself and let him be the good and chivalrous husband he's trying to be.

I start making suggestions on how I could melt the snow in different ways. Outlaw isn't eager to explore that, although I suspect he may change his mind when we're halfway up Forrester Pass a few weeks from now.

I've been really hungry lately—so hungry, I've begun to eat the wildlife, which is very nearly forbidden out here, with the exception of fish. I've only eaten a FEW lizards and there are enough of them out here to choke a camel! There aren't as many squirrels, but if they breed like rabbits, I doubt it'll be a problem—who's going to miss a few of those anyway? They take the edge off the hunger, but I'm really not sure if they have enough calories to offset what I expend eating them. I may have to eventually start consuming them raw--which is quite a disturbing idea and I hope it won't come to that, but it would certainly save me the effort of cooking it. Either way, it's good protein! Outlaw had better have put some really good high-calorie stuff in that bear can.

I'm glad we read all those journals. Otherwise hiking over this snow would be a LOT more frustrating than it is. The Devil's Slide area was scary and it made me almost wish I still had the really long hair—it certainly could have been useful. I wanted to melt the ice, but Outlaw talked me out of it. Fortunately, we negotiate that bit without incident.

We're totally exhausted when we reach camp. We don't even bother to cook dinner. It's a good thing this one didn't need rehydrating. Then we just went to bed. I really hope this doesn't happen often. I suppose we need the rest anyway, since we have that brutal descent tomorrow.

 

Outlaw's Log  
May 13, 2011  
Whitewater River Ford  
Miles: 30.5 Trip miles: 221.0

We arise before dawn. Consequently, we don't have our morning sun-bath, so my mood is a little depressed. While I like that little ritual, we've been getting so much sun out here, I'm surprised it matters as much as it does. We eat a cold breakfast and get going. Firewalker uses a small orb to light our way. She's keeping it close to the ground, so hopefully it won't be too conspicuous.

We begin to see more bare ground by mid-morning, which is encouraging, especially since this is a north-facing slope and north-facing slopes are notorious for retaining more snow. Firewalker suggests stopping for a cooked second-breakfast. I don't need much convincing. I love breakfast, it's just that sometimes I really just want to get going, even when my plans have nothing to do with hiking.

We begin our aggressive descent in early afternoon. The tread is decently graded, so we're able to proceed with alacrity. Firewalker has reduced her foraging, for which I'm grateful. I'm not sure if she's less hungry now that we're out of the snow and losing altitude or if we're just too busy hurtling down the mountain. It's warming up fast and my knees are beginning to hurt from the stiff and prolonged descent. We stop for dinner at a water tank at Snow Canyon Road and eat the last of our food. We only have a few miles left, so it looks like we've planned it just right. Firewalker adds a lizard to her stew.

The final stretch across the flat sand is more difficult than I expect and is remarkably similar to walking over snow, except that there's no post-holing. Even this late in the day, it's hot down here, especially near the freeway! It's probably as hot as it'll be until we reach the Aqueduct in a couple of weeks and Firewalker still isn't sweating. I'm waiting for someone to misdiagnose heat-stroke. That would be an exceptionally good joke if it weren't such a serious thing out here.

We find a decent, out-of-the-way door. It's locked. I'm glad Howl made me practice picking Twentieth-century locks—they're quite different from Seventeenth-century ones. Once I free the door, I activate the marker, collect our resupply while exchanging a few words and then we're on our way. I want to get away from this infernal road. Those horseless conveyances they use here are loud! We stop at the WhiteWater Trout Farm. We just ate at the pass and already Firewalker's drooling. The place is technically closed for the day, but the proprietor's taking care of some things and we convince him to sell us a few trout. To his horror, Firewalker digs into the fish like a ravenous bear, not even bothering to kill it first! The man says something about some character named...Smeagol?

We find a good spot on the sandy floor of the Whitewater Rive a couple of miles up the trail. The river gives us a little of what they call white noise. It's nice and warm and flat and we're alone, so we simply toss out the ground cloth and curl up beneath our sheet, gazing up at the stars.

 

Firewalker's Log

We're up before the sun, so we don't get our morning sun-bath. That makes me a little grouchy. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's like eating a good breakfast versus skipping it? We eat a cold one of those so we can be on our way. It's going to be a high-mileage day, the longest one we've done so far and maybe still a little much for this point in our hike.

I'm glad to see bare ground again. I suggest a cooked second-breakfast, an idea Outlaw whole-heartedly endorses. Are we already starting to think alike? Maybe we'll have a better idea about that after Manning. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day anyway.

I'm feeling less hungry as we descend, which is good because I was starting to worry that I'd be constantly running out of food between resupplies. The tread diving off the mountain is reasonably well-graded, which is also good because gravel is really hard on the feet. This is even harder on the knees, though. We stop at a water tank for an early dinner. I decide to add a lizard to my stew. I want a little more protein and, well, I'm developing a taste for those things—they're like desert jerky!

Walking on sand is almost like walking on snow, except there's no post-holing and it's a LOT warmer! It's really hot down here, especially near the road and I'm still not sweating. I'm waiting for someone to think I'm getting heat-stroke, which would almost be funny if it weren't such an issue out here. Still, I'm not sure I'll be able to resist messing with someone's mind, although that would be mean.

Outlaw has to pick a lock to get our resupply. Locks sure do change a lot over the next 400 years, although he says the basic concepts are still this same, even if the designs are different. We get our food and try to get away from that road. Those...vehicles...they have here sure are noisy! That's been the hardest thing about time we've spent in civilization during our hike so far. Everything's so loud! If it's not some...what's it called...internal combustion engine, it's one of those bards-in-a-box turned up really loud or something else. I'm glad we won't live long enough to see this future...I don't think I like it.

We pause at the WhiteWater Trout Farm. It's closed, but the owner is doing chores, so we buy four fish from him. I'm kind of hungry, so I just start taking bites out of one of them. I could have killed it first, but I thought it would be funny...which it is. The owner freaks out...something about Smeagol...who's Smeagol? I think Outlaw's capacity to maintain his composure adds to the overall effect. I suppose he's getting used to my eccentricities. Trout do taste surprisingly good this way, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to punctuate the narrative with something different. I decided to include a couple of entries from their journals. I started with Eugene's, but quickly decided to write Rapunzel's and present them in counter-point. William Sullivan's *Listening For Coyote* (essentially his trail journal of what he called the New Oregon Trail [I call it the Trans-Oregon Trail to avoid confusion with the historical Oregon Trail.] which passes through all of Oregon's wilderness areas that were designated in the mid-1980's) is written in first-person active voice and left me with the feeling of being right there with him as he hiked. I found that approach so appealing, I'm writing Eugene and Rapunzel's (as well as my own real-life trail journals) like that.
> 
> The San Jacinto Mountains are deceptively snowy. Since they're in SoCal, hikers don't expect it to be. The trail crests out at around 9,000 ft and most hikers regard it as practice for dealing with the snows in the even higher and longer High Sierra. Most hikers also don't have their ice axes going through the San Jacintos. The snow in 2010 and 2011 was so severe throughout all the Western mountains, some hikers skipped the San Jacintos and came back to hike them later, a practice called flip-flopping.  
> The trail plunges from 9,000 ft. to 1,350 ft. in less than twenty miles.


	3. Big Bear City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel take a zero day in Big Bear City. Eugene loses his boots and Rapunzel discovers espresso!

Eugene and Rapunzel strolled down the streets of Big Bear City hand-in-hand. It was early afternoon and they'd checked into their room at Nature's Inn. Now they were looking for something resembling lunch. Rapunzel's stomach had been growling for a couple of hours and it was only getting louder. She was also getting irritable from low blood sugar. They stopped, looking across the street at signs and trying to cross-reference them with the small map in the PCT Atlas and the one they'd found at the inn.

“It looks like our options are two Mexican places and something called family food. What do you think?” said Eugene.

“I don't know,” she said curtly, “You choose.”

“What do you feel like eating?”

“Does it matter?” There was an edge in her voice that was growing edgier by the moment. “It's food! Just pick one.”

Eugene pulled a coin out of his pocket, flipped it a couple of times and then pointed to one of the Mexican restaurants. “That one.”

He led her out into the street. They stopped suddenly and quickly retreated as a car screeched to a halt. The driver yelled some obscenities at them and then sped away.

“How rude!” said Rapunzel, now thoroughly irritated.

“Let it go,” said Eugene evenly, trying to proactively diffuse any further escalation. “Maybe we'd better cross over there,” he said, indicating a nearby intersection where other people were crossing. They walked over there, crossed the street and then backtracked to the restaurant.

“Seems unnecessary to me,” grumbled Rapunzel.

“We've hiked over two hundred miles and you're complaining about a few extra meters?”

“I'm hungry,” she sniped.

They covered the remaining steps to the restaurant without another word. They were greeted by a young waitress, who was about to seat them when she noticed Rapunzel's bare feet.

“Senorita,” she said with a slight tone of regret, “patrons are required to wear shoes.”

“What?” said Eugene.

“State health regulations,” said the waitress, “I am sorry.”

“But she doesn't even _own_ any shoes!” This wasn't entirely accurate. Rapunzel's parents had tried to get her into shoes following her homecoming. They'd tried several approaches and each time Rapunzel had complained bitterly. Thinking she was just being recalcitrant, they had eventually hired the best cobbler in all of the German states. He'd made three pair specifically for her feet, but finally concluded that because she'd grown up going barefoot all the time, her feet had grown that way and it would be practically impossible to find or make shoes that her feet would accept. The matter had ended there, Harold and Liesel accepting that their daughter was a life-long bare-footer.

The waitress suddenly looked shocked and surprised. She looked at Rapunzel, who just stood there fuming. “You...cannot afford shoes?”

“Oh, I can afford all the shoes I want,” Rapunzel retorted, puzzled at the relevance of it all, “I just don't wear any...never have. They make my feet hurt.”

“You...have a disorder.”

“No, I just grew up barefoot!”

“Look,” said Eugene, again trying to diffuse a situation before it became one, “we're both from Europe, so I apologize if we're unfamiliar with the laws here. We also haven't eaten since dawn. I realize neither of these things is really your fault or your concern. But...” he glanced at his wife, “...seriously?”

The waitress looked around nervously. “I...could make exception, but...if boss finds out, I could lose my job. It is between lunch and dinner, so not busy...just don't let anyone see.”

“Thank-you,” said Eugene.

The waitress led them to a far corner where Rapunzel's bare feet could go unnoticed. She then set a bowl of salsa and basket of corn tortilla chips on the table. Rapunzel dug in with reckless abandon.

“Whoa there,” said Eugene, “maybe you should slow down a little.”

She glared at him. “I ate the last of my food...and yours...for breakfast. I didn't see any squirrels or lizards and all those birds were too fast,” she said bluntly.

“Alright,” he said defensively, “don't burn my eyebrows off.”

She paused and cocked her head. “I can do that?”

“Um...can't you?”

“I don't know,” she said between bites, “I haven't tried.”

“Please don't.”

She giggled. “Now why would I do that?”

“I don't know,” he said pensively, “but I _never_ want to do anything that might motivate you to try.”

“Good. Let's keep it that way.”

“It's a good thing I love you. But if you ever _do_ burn my eyebrows off, I'm sure I'll have deserved it!”

She giggled again and shook her head slowly. “Oh, Eugene, you're a treasure.” Her mood was obviously improving. They opened their menus and began to peruse its offerings.

After couple of minutes, Eugene looked up. “I understand every other word, but...”

“It all looks so good!” said Rapunzel. “And that's not just because I'm famished.”

Just then the waitress returned. “Are you two ready to order?” Eugene guessed her accent to be Spanish, Madrid maybe, although he was off by an entire hemisphere. He addressed the woman in Castilian Spanish, which was rough, but had usually been good enough to communicate with the occasional traveler from the Iberian Peninsula. She answered in Mexican Spanish, which was close enough despite the differences in accent and vocabulary. After a few minutes, the waitress wrote on her pad, took their menus and retreated to the kitchen.

“So what did you order?”

“You'll see.”

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Well...I'm quite unfamiliar with Mexican food, but...” he just shrugged. “Don't worry, I think you'll like it.”

They continued munching on chips and salsa. “This is...spicy!” said Rapunzel. “It might make me breathe fire!”

“Um...” said Eugene nervously.

“I'm kidding,” she said with a smile.

“Honey, may I make a suggestion?” Her look told him he should choose his words carefully. “You...might want to chew more.” She raised an eyebrow incredulously. “It'll fit better if you do.”

“I see,” she said flatly.

They were mostly through a second basket of chips when their food arrived. It was on two large platters and looked like one of everything, which wasn't far from the truth. He'd ordered each of them one each of a taco, tamale, chicken enchilada, tostada, chicken burrito, and chile relleno, topped with sour cream, guacamole and accompanied by copious amounts of rice and beans, all smothered in grated cheddar. Unbeknownst to her, he'd also ordered a half-dozen enchiladas and a dozen tamales to go, knowing she'd want more later. Eugene smiled as Rapunzel's face lit up. He smiled even more when she forced herself to slow down and chew, which had the side-effect of allowing her to enjoy the flavors. He dug into his own food. An hour later, they'd completely cleaned off their plates, now thoroughly full.

“Are you gastronomically satisfied?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “Quite.” Then, after a few moments, “They sure make tasty food here. We should teach our kitchens how to cook like this.”

“Considering all the trouble I had just making that one dinner for you?”

“I could threaten to burn his eyebrows off,” she said with a shrug.

Eugene laughed. “You're a treasure.” Then she laughed, too. He paid the bill and picked up their to-go package. “I figured you'd want seconds at some point,” he said in response to her quizzical look. Her face lit up again.

“I think _you're_ the treasure,” she said happily. She reached up and kissed him as they walked out. They strolled back to their motel, this time taking care to observe the pedestrian laws, then lounged around, catching up on their journals while waiting for their food to digest. After a while, their food had settled and they were relaxed enough to....

*****

They had a zero day planned and they were still on schedule, so they took full advantage of it. After their morning sun-bath, they stepped out the door for another trip downtown. Rapunzel had convinced Eugene to exchange his heavy boots for something lighter. She'd wanted him to go barefoot like her, but he was quite disinclined to do so and this was something of a compromise. In the end, he'd agreed to this trip to the local outfitter in search of what she called better hiker shoes.

On the way, they passed a coffee shop and the aroma of freshly-roasted beans stopped them in their tracks. They looked at each other and, after a brief discussion, entered its doors. The interior was an interesting interpretation of what someone down here apparently regarded as Pacific Northwest granola-grunge-urbanite. It was, of course, nothing of the sort. Still, it was neat, clean, and tastefully decorated with enough local art to fill the space without being overwhelming. They walked up to the counter and stared at the menu.

While Eugene had been able to interpret the Mexican menu with a little help, neither he nor his wife had any idea what the strange words like latte and cappuccino meant, despite Rapunzel's recent trip to Italy with her father. After a brief conversation with the barista, they walked out a few minutes later with two grande lattes and an assortment of scones and biscotti. Rapunzel ravenously devoured the baked goods between sips of coffee, with the understanding that they'd be going for some protein after seeing to Eugene's footwear.

Rapunzel grew more and more agitated as they walked—not in a particularly bad way, just more energetic and excited than one would expect and the more they walked, the more energetic and excited she became. By the time they reached their destination, Eugene could swear she was literally beginning to vibrate and he was starting to wonder if she might be developing the power of unaided flight, too. They found the shoe department and Eugene stood there staring at the wall while Rapunzel bounced and oscillated next to him. A salesman walked up and greeted them, doing his professional best to avoid commenting on what he would otherwise have guessed was Rapunzel's narced-up state.

“No,” said Rapunzel in a particularly perky way, incorrectly interpreting his glances, “I'm not going to explode again.”

“Does she...do that often?” said the salesman, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“What, explode or vibrate off the ground?” said Eugene. Rapunzel giggled. The salesman looked confused. “She's experiencing her first-ever latte,” Eugene continued.

“I see,” said the salesman, clearly amused. They quickly changed the subject to the object of their quest: decent trail shoes for Eugene. The salesman knew his stuff and after a couple of hours trying on shoes, talking about things like hot-spots, blisters, good fit, arch support, insoles, and liner socks—while Rapunzel babbled nearly-incessantly--they left having completed their objective. He'd tried to sell Rapunzel some shoes too, but quickly dropped it after seeing her formidable shoe-leather calluses. After asking about good breakfast options, they headed for a small restaurant they were told served good omelets. Sure enough, they were indeed quite tasty and filling.

They walked back to their motel, Eugene wearing his new shoes and Rapunzel still buzzed from her latte.

“Wow,” said Eugene, “it's almost like I'm barefoot!”

“See? I told you it'd be liberating.”

“Yes, but I feel like I might kick myself in the head.”

She just giggled.

Once back in their room, they fell into each other's arms and....

*****

That afternoon, they took care of their laundry and resupply, the latter via the obliging closet door in their room. The next morning, they returned to the espresso bar to supplement with biscotti and chocolate-covered coffee beans. Rapunzel insisted on a venti triple latte to go, despite Eugene's objections.

As the day wore on, she grew increasingly hyper-active. When she'd finished her drink, she abruptly incinerated the cup in two seconds flat. By lunch-time, she was babbling so fast, Eugene was having considerable difficulty understanding her. She was also making a lot of erratic motions, sometimes walking on one side of him, sometimes on the other, sometimes walking backward in front of him—in short, she was, quite literally, hiking circles around him.

Eugene noticed that she'd somehow gained the ability to pinpoint those fast-moving birds. He guessed it had something to do with the caffeine, he'd long ago ceased to be truly surprised at anything she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Big Bear area is actually a lot more spread out than it appears in this chapter--I condensed it for plot purposes. The outfitter they visit (Equada Outfitters) is actually some four or five miles or so west of Big Bear City where Eugene and Rapunzel take their zero day. I invented the espresso place (At least, it isn't on the map in the PCT Atlas.), but it's certainly the sort of place I'd expect to find in the Big Bear Resort area.


	4. Cajon Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel continue their hike out of Big Bear. They meet up with a few other hikers and revel in the social aspect of the PCT.

Outlaw's Log  
May 23, 2011  
Silverwood Lake  
Miles: 22.3 Trip miles: 329.0

We arise in time to have our sunbath. Our pace has been improving and we no longer feel compelled to arise before sunup. One hiker we met in town called that 'the butt-crack of dawn.' If I weren't a morning person, I might be inclined to agree with that sentiment. Wait a minute...I'm a morning person...when did that happen? That dear wife of mine is already having an effect on me...it's a good thing she's cute.

Firewalker's been practicing on birds. It looks like I was right about the caffeine, but she seems to remember how it felt. I guess all of Howl's existential talk actually meant something. Now and again, the thought occurs to me that I'm apparently still not completely used to her...abilities. Fortunately, I have a lifetime to get used to them. I'm relieved those birds are taking the edge off her hunger so maybe we won't be famished when we reach Cajon Pass the way we were when we arrived in Big Bear. I clearly underestimated both our caloric needs and hers in particular.

We nearly lose the trail as it passes below Mojave Dam. On a whim, we walk up to the top...it's not that high anyway. There's no water in it! Who builds a dam to hold back nothing? Technology may have improved in the future, but it seems mankind's overall intelligence doesn't. At this rate, we'll eventually be wholly unable to use our own technology!

Firewalker takes point after that. She's been killing ticks off the vegetation in our path, which is very impressive...those things are quite small and there are a lot of them. It looks like it takes a lot of effort, but she insists it's better than having to remove them later if they latch onto us. It's not that we really mind checking each other for ticks....

I'm ever so glad to reach the shores of Silverwood Lake. It's hot out here and I could use a swim. The live oaks around here may cast a goodly amount of dappled shade, but it does little to relieve the heat. We find a secluded bit of shoreline and decide to set up camp there. We eat a biscotti each and then strip down for a dip in the lake. The buoyancy from being in the water changes the mechanics of our...activity. Her subsequent glow does look different diffused through the lake water. I like it!

We're still in the water when we spot three hikers approaching our location. We don't really have time to rush from the lake, let alone grab our clothes, or even dive into our tent. It's RC Cola, Moonpie and Moose. They graciously agree to turn around while we extract ourselves from the lake and make ourselves presentable. Firewalker kills a fish on her way out and hangs it on a stout twig.

We all share the fish, eaten like sushi. It's actually quite good that way! Firewalker suggests trying to teach this to the cook-staff as well. I have a feeling we'll be returning home with an entire litany of new cuisine to torment our cooks. We all sit around, eating dinner and sharing trail stories and songs until dusk, then turn in. Firewalker and I check each other for ticks just in case and, as usual, get...distracted. It sounds like RC Cola and Moonpie have as well.

Firewalker's Log

We get our sunbath this morning! Actually, we've been getting those more often than not. We're hiking faster these days and it's easier to lay down the miles, so we're not so compelled to get up while it's still dark. Days continue to lengthen, so dawn comes at a reasonable time.

I've been practicing pin-pointing those fast-moving birds. I have to remember how it felt when I was amped up on caffeine. I guess Howl was right about all that and it IS more than just knowing how to walk and it IS a skill that I need to work to develop. They have the side effect of making good snacks, which helps stretch the food I'm carrying. I might actually almost have some left when we reach Cajon Pass!

It's kind of hard to follow the trail below Mojave Dam. We decide to bounce up to the top to have a look. It's empty! Do twenty-first-century dams usually leak? It's becoming increasingly difficult to maintain my faith in mankind when I know we're going to be engaged in nonsense like this.

I take point to test my idea of boiling ticks before they can drop onto us. It's not that I mind our daily ritual of checking each other for ticks, but we keep getting...distracted...and this could be a lot more efficient. It's not hard, but they're small and numerous, so it takes a lot of concentration. I think it's working! This is all so new and interesting! I'm sure anyone hiking behind us will be grateful.

We find a nice, secluded spot on the lakeshore. The heat has been great and while I love it, Eugene's been really looking forward to a swim. Of course, I join him...how could I resist? He's getting good at making me glow and he says he likes how it looks diffused through the water. He's so funny! RC Cola, Moonpie and Moose sort of sneak up on us. I'm so embarrassed! I somehow have the presence of mind to kill a fish on the way out and hang it on a branch for later.

We dismember the fish and eat it like sushi. This is delicious! I never new raw food could taste so good! I notice that Bass taste different than trout. I can't wait to teach our cooks how to do sushi. We sit around just visiting for a while and then retire to our tents.

Outlaw's Log  
May 24, 1997  
Swarthout Canyon Rd.  
Miles: 19.1 Trip miles: 347.8

We're up, packed and taking our sun-bath before the others are up. We're just about done as the others are packing their gear. Moose says something about “getting it in stereo.” RC Cola laughs, Moonpie blushes, I just smile and nod, pretending I know what that means, and Firewalker simply gives them a blank stare. Moose asks about the sun-bathing. I make up something about enjoying the morning rays...which is true, if otherwise quite vague. Quite frankly, I really don't know either...just that I like it and the time spent with my wife. Firewalker starts babbling something about frequencies, photons, non-linear interstitial quantum something-or-other...it all goes right over my head and from the expressions on the others' faces, it's going over their heads, too. Where does she come up with this stuff, anyway?

We all hike together, although I'm a little worried Firewalker's going to start killing lizards in front of our friends. I realize we're not out here to socialize, but that's still part of the whole PCT experience and I'd hate to miss out on that just because we frightened everyone. To my relief, she restrains herself and while we do see a lot of them, she doesn't kill a single one. I'm proud of her.

As we approach the freeway—which is apparently what they call those massive roads—talk turns to food. There's some place called McDonald's and some other place called Del Taco. We're told Del Taco is a Mexican place and, while it's a little further, we head for that. The food's not as good as what they served at that place in Big Bear, but it'll do. After dinner, we buy a bunch of tamales to go and then go in search of an obliging door for our resupply.

Just like at San Gorgonio Pass, it's hard to get away from the road noise. So far, only a couple of the road crossings have been like this, so I think we'll be okay as far as the relative seclusion thing goes.

Firewalker's Log

We're ready to go and bathing in the sun before the others stir. Moose complains about “getting it in stereo,” whatever that means. The others understand it, and Outlaw at least pretends he does—it must be another of those twenty-first-century jokes. Moose asks about the sun-bathing. I suppose these sorts of questions were inevitable. I've spent the last week or so trying to figure out how to answer them. I mean, it's not like discussing the trail, or archery, or painting, or something else like that. This is, well, pretty weird stuff—fringe science I think they call it here, which is apparently not highly regarded. In our time, it's magic! Sometimes it still feels that way...maybe magic and science are the same thing? Perhaps I can get away with being straightforward about it and everyone will think I'm inventing it. So I do. Their eyes glaze over. So do Outlaw's, which is odd, since I thought we'd gone over it. Evidently we'll have to talk about it some more.

We hike together. I can tell Outlaw's anxious about me scaring off our friends by killing lizards and such, so I decide to refrain from that, even though I could really use a snack or two...or three. Frankly, I'm anxious about scaring them, too. Reaching Cajon Pass, we head for this Del Taco place, bypassing what Moose calls “SmackDonald's.” He's a pretty funny guy...are all Canadians like that? What's the smacking part, I wonder...do people regularly get into fights at SmackDonalds? We eat copious amounts of food at Del Taco and order a pile of tamales to go. I really like this Mexican food! I'm so glad when we finally do manage to get away from that huge road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mojave Dam was built by the Army Corps of Engineers ostensibly for flood-control on the usually-dry Mojave River. Many people consider this to have been severe overkill.


	5. Hiker Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel spend some much-needed R&R at the most famous hiker hostel on the PCT. They make some new friends and Rapunzel makes an unpleasant discovery about alcohol.

Eugene and Rapunzel strolled into the grounds of Hiker Heaven in Agua Dulce. Hiker Heaven was the next best thing to the Kickoff. The place was run by Jeff and Donna “L-Rod” Saufley, the two best-known trail angels along the entire length of the PCT. There was a large mobile home and a collection of small outbuildings and trailers. Off to one side was a row of white free-standing tents permanently installed for PCT hikers. Food, drink, laundry, clean beds, all that and more was available here free of charge, all to help hikers recharge and make the last push across the last of the deserts that lay between here and the beckoning pull of the High Sierra.

Eugene and Rapunzel planned on taking two zeros here, although some hikers took as many as four or five. They checked in with L-Rod, who led them to their accommodations. As honeymooners, they were given private quarters. After taking a shower, before which they were given loaner clothes and flip-flops—which Rapunzel managed to tolerate for the sake of keeping her feet clean during their R&R—they deposited their clothes in the laundry and went to seek food, drink, and fellowship with other hikers.

They walked up to some others sitting on hay bales circled around and joined them. One of them offered Eugene and Rapunzel each a cold beer.

“This is what, precisely?” asked Rapunzel, who hadn't seen bottled beer before.

“Nectar of the gods, man,” said the hiker.

They looked at the bottles, which were boldly labeled “Corona,” then at each other and shrugged.

She took a swallow and then frowned. “It's...I don't know.”

“It's not bad,” said Eugene, “although most of what I've had back home is a lot better.”

“I wouldn't know,” she said pensively, “I've never had beer before. Still...” she took another drink. “Maybe it's nothing.” After about twenty minutes, she'd drained the bottle. Five minutes later, she gasped.

“What is it?” said Eugene, slightly alarmed.

“I feel...strange...and not in a good way.”

“Maybe she should lie down,” said a hiker.

“Have you been hydrating?” said a second.

“Is it alcohol poisoning?” said a third.

“After one beer?”

“Well, maybe she can't hold her liquor.”

Just then, she let out a powerful belch that was immediately followed by a strong jet of flame.

“Damn!”

“Son of a motherless goat!”

Other expressions of surprise and alarm crossed other lips...expressions of the type that sounded to the Fitzherberts like they shouldn't be repeated in polite company.

Once the flame had died down, Rapunzel put her hand up to her mouth in a gesture of embarrassment. “Pardon me!”

“What the hell was that?!” exclaimed a hiker.

L-Rod came out to investigate all the commotion.

“It appears that alcohol makes my wife breathe fire,” said Eugene in a matter-of-fact way.

L-Rod raised an eyebrow.

“And you don't have a problem with that?” said a hiker.

“Well...she's never done that before...” another belch and another stream of flame interrupted him. L-Rod yelped, turned and sprinted into the house. A few minutes later, she came running back out, a damp cloth in hand. She put it on Rapunzel's forehead.

“I've called an ambulance. In the meantime, you'd better lie down.”

Rapunzel accepted the washcloth, mostly out of politeness. “I don't think any of that will be necessary, but thank-you anyway.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rapunzel hiccuped in response, which was immediately followed by a brief ball of fire. “Oh, dear. I hate hiccups.”

Ten minutes and many fiery hiccups later, a paramedic unit arrived. A man and woman in uniform dashed into the compound and were directed to Rapunzel, who still sat on the hay bale, and was now looking thoroughly tired in exactly the way someone would if they'd been hiccuping for nearly fifteen minutes. They started asking questions, half of which were wholly unfamiliar, but both she and Eugene answered them as best as they could. The woman attempted to take Rapunzel's temperature with a digital thermometer, but it just shorted out, much to her surprise. After a second attempt with a mercury model, her eyes grew wide. “We need to get her temperature down _stat_!” she said to the man. “Get a fever-reducer in her _now!_ ” He jumped into action and went to start an IV.

“What's that?” said Eugene.

“Sir, her body temperature is over a hundred and twelve! She'll be dead in five minutes if we don't get that down now! I'm giving her something to reduce her fever.”

“No, I mean, what's that?” He pointed at the IV.

“We need to inject it directly into her bloodstream. It'll crash her metabolism, but it's the only way to get her temp down that fast.”

“You'll do no such thing,” said Eugene as he positioned himself between his wife and the paramedic.

“She'll die if we don't.”

“Um...you don't understand...” He was cut off by another hiccup and another small ball of flame. Both paramedics yelped, swore and jumped back. “What the hell?!”

“I'm trying to tell you, all that's really not necessary,” said Eugene. The two just stared at him like he was nuts.

“Eugene,” said Rapunzel, “I don't feel so good.” This time she sounded like she was actually sick. “I think I'm going to discharge.”

“Are you sure?” She nodded. “How much space do you need?”

“Four meters, maybe five.”

“Dischage?” said the female paramedic. “What does that mean?”

Eugene ignored her. Instead, he stood up and addressed everyone nearby. “Alright, people, I need ten meters of clearance, right now!” Nobody budged. “ _move!_ Unless you want to be sent home in a very small box!” Everyone uncertainly retreated to the requested distance.

“Here it comes!” She said it in much the same way that one would if they were about to throw up from food poisoning or so-called stomach flu. She rose shakily to her feet and then, _WHUMPH_ , accompanied by a large ball of flame. It wasn't as big as the first one she'd had, but Eugene still found it a bit alarming to watch—it was a lot different than seeing it on the small iPad screen. When the fire had cleared, there she stood, clothing slightly singed, hair a bit redder, but otherwise fine. The hay bales and the IV apparatus had, of course, been reduced to ash. She trotted over to Eugene.

“Much better!” she said happily as she threw her arms around him. He hugged her back. Everyone else just stared, jaws hanging open.

“Can you still...?” he asked. She held out her hand and a small ball of fire appeared over it, then winked out a moment later. She nodded and he kissed her. “Who'd have thought a little bit of beer could knock me that much out of balance?”

“Alright, everyone, she's fine,” said Eugene to the crowd. “But no more alcohol for her!”

“Wha...wha...wha...” stammered L-Rod.

Rapunzel nodded at Eugene. “She has pyrokinesis,” he said evenly.

“There's no such thing,” said one of the paramedics.

“I assure you, there is.”

“So that was...” said L-Rod, nodding toward where Rapunzel had been standing at the time of the explosion.

“An uncontrolled pyrokinetic discharge,” said Rapunzel, “in response to alcohol consumption.”

“Okay!” said L-Rod loudly, getting everyone's attention. “You two,” she said to the paramedics, “I don't have an explanation for you...or at least not one your superiors would be inclined to believe...so I don't know what to suggest you put in your report, but thank-you for your services anyway. As for you two,” she said to Eugene and Rapunzel, “we need to talk. Please follow me. Everyone else, as you were.” She turned and walked into the house, Eugene and Rapunzel on her heels.

*****

L-Rod led them through the kitchen, pausing at the refrigerator. She opened it and pulled out two small bottles of orange juice.

“Orange juice?” she said.

Rapunzel eyed it suspiciously, then accepted the bottle. Eugene did the same. L-Rod led them to the living room and they all sat down.

L-Rod took a deep breath as though she were calming herself. “Here at Hiker Heaven, we never turn away hikers...ever. This is the very first time I've considered making an exception to that rule and I'd still rather not. I don't get the feeling you two mean any malice toward anyone, particularly not us or your fellow hikers, which is why we're in here talking at all. I'm prepared to consider treating this as an accident, but...are you listening, young lady?”

Rapunzel had been tentatively sipping at her juice, closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them again. “Oh,” she said absently, “yes. It's just that the last time I drank an unfamiliar beverage without paying attention to my body...well, you know.”

L-Rod nodded. “As I was saying, I'm willing to regard this as an accident, but I want some answers. What I saw you do out here scares me...a lot. Some of our guests might think it cool, but I see it as a serious safety concern...at best. So I want to know what it is you do, how it is that you do it and, most importantly, what made you...explode. Then we'll go from there.”

Eugene and Rapunzel looked at each other. Then Rapunzel explained her pyrokinesis as best as she could and as much as she thought prudent. There were a few holes, some of them because she didn't know how to explain something, some that she simply didn't know and some deliberately omitted for other reasons.

“You do realize, of course, that this severely strains credulity,” said L-Rod after Rapunzel had finished. “Aside from your...discharge...do you have any proof of any of this?”

Eugene and Rapunzel looked at each other again. Then Rapunzel held our her hand and a grapefruit-sized ball of flame sprang to life, hovering over her palm. The ball transformed into a bird, which flew around the room a few times, returning to her hand to re-form into a miniature sun complete with flares and sunspots. Then it went out. “How's that?”

“Whoa,” said L-Rod. Then she gave a resigned sigh. “Okay, I'm convinced...sort of...at least the part about your ability to control your...whatever-it-is. You may stay, but if anything else...and I mean anything at all...happens, I _will_ have to send you on your way. Is that clear?”

They both nodded. “Thank-you,” said Eugene.

They all rose and went back outside. Things appeared to be more or less normal. Hikers were reclining here and there in the shade. Some drank beverages, some wrote in their journals, some gnawed on something resembling food, others just sat around chatting. It wasn't nearly the hiker Woodstock that the Kickoff had been, but it was the next best thing, being a more or less scaled-down version with dozens instead of hundreds in attendance. In short, thing looked pretty much as they had when Eugene and Rapunzel had arrived just a couple of hours before.

They spent the rest of the afternoon joining themselves. A few people seemed to be a bit nervous near Rapunzel. A few others posed vague and very poorly-worded questions, most of which neither of them knew how to answer mainly because they didn't understand the nature of the inquiries. A few others wanted to see demonstrations, to which Rapunzel politely declined. Afternoon became evening and that, too, passed without incident. It was fully dark when the last of the hikers, including the Fitzherberts, had retired to their respective quarters.

*****

Eugene and Rapunzel stood out in the middle of the Hiker Heaven grounds, arms out to their sides, heads tilted upward, eyes closed. They were facing east, awaiting the rising of the morning sun. L-Rod and Jeff were up early. Running a hiker hostel was quite time-consuming during through-hiking season, so they had to keep farmer's hours. Jeff was heading west to pick up some hikers getting a really late start—they were planning to flip-flop, hiking from here to Manning, then returning here to hike south to complete the rest of the trail. L-Rod was heading out of town, too, to make a rather large grocery run at Costco. New hikers tended to arrive off the trail in the afternoon anyway. There were standing instructions and ground rules, so everyone knew the drill. The Saufleys walked up to the Fitzherberts.

“Good morning,” said Rapunzel before anyone else had said a word.

“Are we...interrupting anything?” said Jeff.

“No,” said Rapunzel evenly, “just our morning sun-bath.”

“You don't get enough of that on the trail?”

“There's something about the early morning sun...I'm not sure what.”

There was a moment of silence.

“If we don't get it,” added Eugene, “we feel...off all day. It somehow lifts our mood and gets us off on the right foot at the beginning of our day.”

“Like coffee?”

Eugene snickered. “Well...maybe, but you really don't want to see what espresso does to her.”

“Does she...?” said L-Rod nervously.

“Explode?” said Eugene, “No, but she gets hyper...very hyper. It's really quite amusing.”

“Eugene!” said Rapunzel in a decidedly scolding tone.

“Wait,” said Jeff, “You said, 'explode?'”

“I apparently have a really bad reaction to alcohol,” said Rapunzel.

“You get violently angry?”

“No,” said L-Rod, “she literally explodes.”

Jeff raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Well, _that's_ going to keep me occupied on the road. I'd love to stay and hear how you manage that, but I have some hikers to meet. In the meantime, have a pleasant day.” He nodded, then turned and walked away.

“You...didn't tell him?” said Eugene.

“I'm...not really sure how. It's...weird. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Rapunzel. “Believe me, it's _much_ weirder on my end.”

“I don't doubt it. Look, I have to go. Be careful with that sun, though. It'll give you cancer.” She turned and walked away herself.

“I seriously doubt it,” said Rapunzel quietly.

She and Eugene returned to their sunbath, the sun now breaking over the eastern hills.

“What's cancer?” Eugene asked after a few moments.

“It's when your cells divide uncontrollably and try to take over your body.”

“I...I'm not sure I follow.”

“It's like what the Huns did in the fourth and fifth century.”

He made a nonverbal sound indicating his continued confusion.

“You really haven't been paying attention to your lessons, have you?”

“Um...not so much, no.”

“Really, Eugene!” she said with more than a hint of annoyance. “You're a prince now. You must start taking these things more seriously.”

“I'm still getting used to all these changes.”

“Changes? Don't talk to me about changes! My whole life so far has been nothing but change.”

Eugene sighed. “I'm sorry, honey. I have all these obligations waiting for me when we return...which I suppose aren't too much more than the ones I had before we came out here. I'm still finding it overwhelming whenever I think about it. For now, I want my world to be you, me, and the trail...nothing else. Isn't that the point of a honeymoon?”

She nodded.

“When we're done, I promise I'll take my...princing...with all the seriousness it demands. At the end of the day, prince or not, I'm really just a boy standing in front of a girl asking her to love him.”

She turned and hugged him and he hugged her back.

“You really are the best thing that's ever happened to me,” she said.

“I still think you happened to me.”

“Oh, really?” she teased.

“Yes, really. You clobbered me over the head, tied me up with your hair, hid my satchel and then blackmailed me into taking you to see the lanterns. I'd say that qualifies as _you_ happening to _me_.”

“But _you_ climbed my tower.”

“I didn't know what I was doing.”

“Neither did I.”

“Do you think our whole lives will be like that? I mean, not knowing what we're doing and having to learn it as we go.”

“I think it might.”

“I can think of no one but you with whom I'd rather do it.”

“Aww....” She leaned up and kissed him.

They were interrupted by another hiker, one of the really early risers—which was a bit odd, since hikers weren't known for being up early on their zero days. Most of them would rather sleep in and attempt to catch up on the sleep they'd missed during all those restless nights out on the trail. His trail name was GreyJay, a name he'd acquired on a previous trip in the Oregon Cascades where he'd been repeatedly swarmed by the gregarious birds of the same name which had been intent on competing for his secret home-made peanut-butter bars. He recognized Rapunzel and Eugene from the Kickoff, but hadn't crossed paths with them since Eugene had acquired his own trail name. GreyJay had arrived the previous evening well after the excitement of Rapunzel's episode.

“Am I...interrupting anything?”

Eugene and Rapunzel looked at each other. “I...think we're finished,” said Eugene.

A brief conversation ensued and they followed GreyJay over to a group of picnic tables. Another hiker was just emerging from a tent pitched on the lawn. He carried a small backpacking stove and a bag of granola over to the tables. His name was Oatmeal, owing to his preoccupation with oats. He put them in everything: breakfast bars, bread, biscuits, desserts, everything—there was no meal he ate on, and even off, the trail that did not involve oats. He, too, had arrived late and had been leap-frogging with GreyJay since Big Bear. He offered the others some granola—he had more in his resupply anyway—and they gladly accepted. He filled his small kettle with water, set up his stove, poured some alcohol fuel into it and reached for his matches...which were missing.

“Well,” said Oatmeal, “I suppose we could eat it cold.”

The alcohol abruptly burst into flame. Oatmeal and GreyJay just stared at it. Rapunzel grabbed the kettle and set it over the burner.

“What the...?” said Oatmeal.

“Don't ask,” said Eugene. He felt a little nervous and hoped that this didn't qualify as 'something happening' that would be grounds for their immediate expulsion from Hiker Heaven.

“Don't tell,” added Rapunzel.

They sat there in silence while the water boiled. Oatmeal had forgotten to unfold the handles, which still lay flat against the outer wall of the kettle, and nearly burned himself trying to manipulate it. Her impatience getting the best of her, Rapunzel reached over and picked up the still-hot kettle. “Where do you want it?” she asked.

Oatmeal pointed at the bag of granola, now standing upright with its top open. Rapunzel poured the water into the bag, set the kettle on the table, closed the bag, and began to massage its contents. “Like this?”

Oatmeal nodded. “How is it that you women always have asbestos fingers?”

“It's a trade secret,” said Rapunzel, covering for the fact that she had no idea what 'asbestos fingers' meant. That seemed to diffuse the others' confusion and they were sharing the granola a few minutes later, eating it right out of the bag over discussions about their trail experiences so far. They'd even gone so far as to propose hiking together through the High Sierra. The Fitzherberts agreed on the condition that their family meeting them at Kennedy Meadows also agree.

Much of the day was spent socializing, catching up on journals and generally relaxing. Jeff Saufley returned a little before noon with a trio of hikers. They introduced themselves as Salad, Poison Oak and Cougarsbane. Salad was an Appalachian Trail veteran, completing that hike on an entirely vegetarian diet—a feat she aimed to repeat here on the PCT. Poison Oak insisted that he was not allergic to urushiol—a claim everyone doubted despite his copious amount of supporting evidence. Cougarsbane had fought with a cougar in the Siskiyous, using super-glue to avoid stitches while continuing his Trans-Oregon Trail hike—which he later had to abort due to legal trouble involving a bar brawl in Prineville. L-Rod returned shortly after noon with a car-load of groceries from Costco and Winco. All present eagerly helped her unload it all.

*****

“I think this charcoal's defective.” GreyJay had been wrestling with a charcoal grill for the last half hour. He'd tried everything just short of magnesium, thermite and gasoline and it still wouldn't light. Jeff and L-Rod were also puzzled.

“What seems to be the trouble?” said Rapunzel as she walked up to them.

“This charcoal won't light and we don't know why,” said GreyJay.

L-Rod looked expectantly at Rapunzel.

“We have an agreement, though,” she said answering the unspoken question.

“I'm making an exception,” said L-Rod, “Just don't blow it up.”

Rapunzel looked down at the charcoal and it suddenly burst into flames. “How's that?” she asked.

“Uh...perfect,” said L-Rod.

“I wouldn't buy any more of this, though,” said Rapunzel. “It seems a little...dense, and not in the good way as with anthracite.”

They were distracted by a loud altercation coming from across the yard. Eugene was arguing with Salad about something.

“But my professor said that's not how it happened! According to the evidence...”

“Your professor is wrong and your evidence is wrong!” shouted Eugene. “I know what happened, I was there and I saw it!” He then said something in German that everyone within earshot presumed was a swear word, slammed his hands on the table, whirled around and stalked off a dozen paces where he stood fuming. Rapunzel walked over to him and an escalating discussion in German ensued. They didn't seem to be angry at each other so much as frustrated at something in general. After a couple of minutes, they both visibly relaxed and Eugene returned to the table. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you and...I apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” said Salad evenly. “So you admit you were wrong?”

“No,” said Eugene flatly.

Salad raised an eyebrow.

“I'm _from_ that part of the world, so I consider myself an expert in that area. And...I'm not used to being questioned on things on which I'm an expert. If I really don't know, that's one thing, but otherwise....”

“Or maybe you just _think_ you know,” said Salad, the edge returning to her voice.

Eugene's eyes narrowed. He could feel himself growing angry again. His wife had just been telling him that it didn't really matter, that it wasn't important enough to justify a fight. He didn't necessarily disagree with the latter point, but it nonetheless mattered to him. He could deal with being wrong, even if he had to be metaphorically clobbered over the head. This was different, though. It wasn't like making a math mistake, or a judgment error, or confusing mauve with dusty rose. It was like seeing a grizzly bear in SoCal and being told that wasn't what you saw because everyone knows they're extinct in California.

He of course understood that he may have misinterpreted what he'd witnessed, but even that wasn't really in dispute. Salad insisted that army had headed north when Eugene had _seen_ them _clearly_ headed _east_! There hadn't been a cloud in the sky, it was mid-morning and it had been perfectly obvious! There wasn't really anywhere in that area that would have been practical to head north anyway, since there was only one strip of land firm enough to support the weight of even a few people, let alone an entire army and it was east-west-trending. Everything north of that was miles and miles of coastal swamp and the Dutch wouldn't drain and dike it for another ten years. There was literally no way an army could possibly move through that unless they had no other choice and that simply hadn't been the case.

Eugene knew that because he'd been the one evading that army. It wasn't that he was being hunted at the time—at least not by _that_ nation's forces--but he would have been conscripted on the spot and he really hadn't been keen on being involved in anyone's military. The irony of the fact that he was now partially in charge of one—and some day fully in charge by virtue of being married to the Crown Princess--wasn't lost on him, but that was something else entirely.

He supposed that the whole thing was really a matter of perception of authority on the subject and not personal at all, but the fact that he was his own authority _made_ it personal. Neither of them could really prove their point, so it wasn't a fight that could be won, which made it a matter of mutually backing down while saving face.

“Look, guys,” said Cougarsbane, trying to be helpful. “My own professor said something interesting the first day of class.” They both looked at him. “He said, 'Half of what I'm about to teach you this semester is wrong. The trouble is, we don't know which half.'”

Salad chucked. “You know, I think that might be the most accurate thing I've heard so far...from either of us.”

“So can we, maybe, agree to disagree?” said Cougarsbane.

Eugene paused for a moment, then nodded and extended his hand toward Salad. “Do we have an accord?”

She raised an eyebrow, then reached out and shook Eugene's hand. “Yes, I believe we do.”

“Now let's talk about logging,” said Cougarsbane.

“No!” said GreyJay. “Let's not!”

“Why?” said Eugene.

“Because then we'd _all_ be yelling at each other.”

“Although I think we'd all agree that it shouldn't be done along the PCT,” said Cougarsbane.

“ _AYE!_ ” called Oatmeal from a nearby table as he raised a mug containing some unidentified beverage.

Others echoed that sentiment and conversations returned to the usual hiking-related subjects and small talk.

Eugene and Rapunzel strolled off in the general direction of their quarters.

“That was tense,” she said.

“Agreed. Why do I do that?”

“You're a man?”

“I guess so. Still, I shouldn't be doing things like that, especially on our honeymoon.”

She stopped and turned toward him. He did the same. “Dearest, I look at our honeymoon as a sort of preview of the rest of our married life, its first chapter. If all our years ahead of us are like this, I can certainly live with that.”

“And I'd be an awfully shallow man if I feared you leaving me every time I lose my temper. I'm sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Just don't overdo it.”

*****

“What?! Don't _cook_ it!” Rapunzel looked in horror at the nice salmon fillet that lay on a cutting board in front of her.

Cougarsbane looked at her incredulously. “Why wouldn't I cook it?”

“You'll ruin it! There's only _one_ acceptable way to eat fish. Give me that,” she said as she grabbed the fillet knife he was holding. She deftly sliced the salmon into narrow strips. Eugene and Oatmeal looked over from the other side of the table where they were preparing hamburger patties—containing oats, of course. Cougarsbane looked flustered and started to protest.

“I'd stay out of her way if I were you,” said Eugene. He and Oatmeal returned most of their attention to the burgers.

When Rapunzel had finished slicing, she put down the knife and picked up one of the pieces of fish. She held it up and tore off a small piece, handing it to Cougarsbane. He frowned at it.

“Go on, take it. It's good.”

He hesitated, then accepted it between thumb and forefinger. “You first,” he said.

She popped her own piece into her mouth and started to chew. She closed her eyes, clearly enjoying it.

Cougarsbane peered at his piece, then put it into his mouth and gingerly chewed. “You're right. That's not bad at all.”

Rapunzel picked up another piece and offered it to Eugene. His hands were still covered with hamburger gunk, so he opened his mouth and Rapunzel deposited it between his teeth. “You know,” he said between chews, “I could get used to this. Just don't ask me to eat it live.”

“What?” said Oatmeal.

“It tastes the same,” said Rapunzel, “only it moves.”

“Wait...” said Cougarsbane, “...you haven't really eaten a live fish...have you?”

“At Whitewater,” she said sweetly.

“You should have seen the look on the owner's face,” said Eugene with suppressed laughter. “It was priceless.”

“The look on yours was pretty funny, too,” she said, biting into another piece of fish.

“You're related to Smeagol, aren't you?” said Cougarsbane.

“The Whitewater owner said something about that,” said Eugene. “Who's Smeagol?”

“You clearly haven't read 'Lord of the Rings,'” said Oatmeal as he smacked another patty into submission.

“We should remedy that,” said GreyJay. “Maybe we can watch the movies this evening.”

“That would take all day,” said Oatmeal, “especially if we watch the extended editions. That would mean hogging the TV for, like, twelve hours and that's kind of impolite.”

“What if a bunch of us agree on it and we make it a group thing?”

“That could work.”

“Yeah,” said Cougarsbane, “then we could all have beers and...”

“ _NO!_ ” shrieked another hiker from another nearby table. Her name was Suncup, so-named because on a previous hike, she'd negotiated the snow features of that name far better than her companions at the time.

“What?” said GreyJay.

“You do _not_ want to give her beer!”

“Why not?”

“Dude, you weren't here to see what happened the other day. It was frightening. If she has a beer during your movie marathon, she'll burn down the house.”

“So, like, she's a violent drunk then?”

“I suppose you could put it that way.”

GreyJay and the others looked at Rapunzel. “You don't _look_ like the sort who'd be a violent drunk.”

“It's complicated,” said Eugene.

“No it isn't,” said Cougarsbane. “In fact, getting drunk is really quite straightforward. That's kind of why I had to abort my Trans-Oregon through-hike.”

Rapunzel looked at him quizzically. “What happens to you when you get drunk?”

“I get into fights. You?”

“Um....”

“She...er...breathes fire and explodes,” said Eugene.

“You mean that metaphorically, right?” said Cougarsbane.

“No,” said Rapunzel sheepishly, “no, he doesn't.”

“Right,” said Oatmeal incredulously, “and I have some oceanfront property in Artemesia to sell you.”

“No, thanks,” said Eugene, not comprehending the joke, “we have some.”

“In Artemesia?”

“No, in Corona,” said Rapunzel.

“And...how much oceanfront property to you own in this...Corona?” said Oatmeal.

“Pretty much all of it.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“My parents...sort of own the country.”

“As in, they have controlling interests in all its industries?”

“No, they quite literally own it. There are some legal clarifications, but for all intents and purposes, they own it.”

Eugene spoke to her, again in German. 'Weren't we going to be more subtle about this?'

'Yes, but the stranger the story, the less believable it tends to be. The truth can be stranger than fiction.'

'So no one would believe it anyway, right?'

'Exactly.'

'What if they tell us about events that happen in our immediate future? Wouldn't that have consequences for our own temporal causality?'

'But won't it happen already anyway? Why would it matter if we knew about it or not? Temporal causality prohibits us from knowingly and intentionally changing our own past or future.'

'Would you wish to live our lives knowing, for example, if Corona endures as a kingdom? Or if we have to flee war or political unrest and if so, whether or not we survive? I think that would be far too stressful. It just wouldn't be natural!'

'Eugene, what happened to me at my birth, or on Ingary, or to you at your near-death wasn't natural! Nor is our being here nearly four hundred years in our future.'  
Eugene sighed. 'You have a point. Shall we just let whatever happens happen, then?'

She nodded. 'And I'll try to be more subtle.'

The others looked at them expectantly.

“Never mind,” said Eugene, “It's a...couple's thing.”

There was much nodding and generally vague murmuring.

The burger patties were ready by now.

“This is that...trick charcoal, isn't it?” said Cougarsbane, looking down at the pile of the stuff sitting as yet unlit in the bottom of the round Webber barbecue unit.

“No problem,” said Rapunzel, as the stuff burst into flame.

“I'd really like to know how you do that.”

“I'm sure you do.” Then she added, “Oh, and I just pre-heated the grill too, so we can start cooking the burgers now.”

Salad walked by, munching on an apple. “I think you're all pigs.”

“What?” said Eugene.

“All that meat? And eating some of it raw? Ick!”

“Just wait until you're slogging over Forrester Pass,” said GreyJay, “or fording streams in Yosemite, or trying to warm up in a northern Washington storm. Then you'll be _begging_ for it!”

“We'll see about that.” She stalked off.

“Well, that was rude,” said Rapunzel with a scowl.

“Don't worry about it,” said Oatmeal. “She gets like that from time to time. That and she's really dedicated to that vegan thing of hers...a bit over-dedicated if you ask me.”

A few minutes later, a few of the burgers were cooking over the grill. When they were ready to flip, Cougarsbane realized he'd forgotten to grab a spatula.

“No problem,” said Rapunzel, reaching out and flipping them by hand.

Cougarsbane slowly shook his head in amazement. “You'll have to show me how to do that.”

“It's really not something I can teach.”

“Why not?”

Rapunzel looked at Eugene and nodded slightly. “She has pyrokinesis,” he explained. “That's why.”

“Really? I always thought that was...a myth, controversial at best.”

“Not in her case.”

“Were you...born with it?”

“Not...exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It's complicated.”

“You keep saying that,” said GreyJay. “What are you hiding?”

“Who says I'm hiding anything?”

“You're evading. That means you're hiding something. That makes me nervous.”

“It should,” said Suncup. “Like I said, you didn't see what happened yesterday.”

GreyJay turned back to Rapunzel, who was removing the first burgers and placing fresh ones on the grill. “Care to share?”

“No, not really,” she said evenly.

GreyJay looked at Suncup and raised an expectant eyebrow. She took a breath, as though collecting herself, and then relayed the event culminating in Rapunzel's discharge. They all looked at Rapunzel in surprise.

“Seriously?” said Cougarsbane.

Rapunzel shrugged sheepishly.

He looked back at Suncup. “If I hadn't seen her start fires with her mind, I'd think you were smoking something. Then I'd ask you for some.”

“And I'd ask you to share,” said Oatmeal.

“And I'd report all of you for using illicit substances,” said Salad from a lawn chair in which she sat happily munching on a tofu salad.

“Alright,” said Rapunzel. “Here's my final offer. If you all stop asking me questions about my...abilities...I'll demonstrate some more of it when we get into the High Sierra. I _might_ even show you what it is that makes it possible for me to do what I do.”

As she hoped, their curiosity got the better of them and they agreed. The remainder of the dinner period passed uneventfully, except for the arrival of Moose. He reported that RC Cola had post-holed going over Mt. Baden Powell, badly slicing his leg. He and Moonpie had to take him back to Cajon Pass for medical assistance. He was recovering well, should be able to continue and would only be behind schedule by a week.

They all spent a few hours sitting around in a circle telling stories and singing songs. Eugene had the advantage of knowing German folk stories that had, by 2011, been lost to the mists of time. He even, with his wife's assent, told an abridged version of their own. The same was true of songs, some he'd learned in England and some elsewhere—he stuck with the English ones, the French, German and Norwegian ones usually not working well when translated. He told two of the shorter of the Icelandic sagas. They talked him into telling “Beowulf” in installments while in the High Sierra. Others told stories they'd learned at places like Boy Scout camp, or really bad jokes with inane but clean punch-lines. Songs were mainly limited to ones learned at the aforementioned Scout Camp and modern tunes filked with hiking-related lyrics. They found that, despite their differences in culture, language, philosophy, they all had much more in common than they may have otherwise believed.

*****

Rapunzel and Eugene lay in bed that evening. She was glowing.

“I think I'm starting to get used to this...to you glowing, that is.”

She smiled and snuggled up closer to him, the glow brightening a bit. After a few minutes, it faded and she moved away a little, propping herself up on an elbow. “Eugene? Do you fear me?”

He rolled over to face her. “Do I fear you?” His tone strongly suggested confusion.

“Yes, do you fear me?”

“Wow,” he said. “Other men get questions like, 'Do you love me,' 'Do you need me,' 'Does this dress make me look fat?' No, not me. I get, 'Do you fear me?'”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “Eugene, I'm serious. You've seen me at my worst. You know what I can do. You've seen what enables me to do it. Does it ever make you...afraid of me?”

“Well, sometimes you're a little scary, but....” his voice trailed off uncertainly. She gave him a few minutes to think. “No, I'm not afraid of you. I'm in awe of you, for sure, and it's not just because you have phenomenal cosmic powers, although those help.”

That made her giggle. “Phenomenal cosmic powers?”

“Yes. You showed us the sun-blood, which you yourself said is a lot bigger than it looked. So, yes. You have phenomenal cosmic powers...in an itty-bitty living space.” He said the last few words as he reached over and tickled her. She laughed, tickled him back and soon they were rolling over each other in a tickle fight that lasted several minutes after which they were panting.

“Make me glow again?” she said.

“If you insist,” he said as he took her in his arms and kissed her....

*****

The next day began much like the one before. Rapunzel and Eugene took their sunbath. Jeff went out again to pick up some more guests. L-Rod stayed behind to keep an eye on things and play hostess. She seemed to be relaxing a little more with regard to what she was willing to allow Rapunzel to do with her powers—the Fitzherberts supposed that may have been because it was just too darned useful. It was generally agreed that there would be a 'Lord of the Rings' movie marathon. A few hikers, mainly those already there when the Fitzherberts had arrived, were torn between the marathon and getting back on the trail. One such hiker, Frodo, stayed an extra day for the movies.

Eugene and Rapunzel literally sat on the edges of their seats, totally enthralled, for the closest thing they'd ever seen to this was the instant replay of Rapunzel's first discharge—it also helped that the movies were superbly made in every aspect, well-deserving of the Academy Awards they'd received. The two of them barely knew what a movie was and they'd asked a few questions before the opening credits rolled, much to the consternation of those present. There was a goodly break after 'The Fellowship of the Ring' and another after 'The Two Towers.' No sooner had the screen faded out from the Nazgul soaring above Mordor then L-Rod poked her head into the room.

“Eugene, Rapunzel, you have some visitors.”

“We do?” said Eugene. He had no idea who would be calling on them specifically here. Howl would have waited for the door to be activated and he didn't know anyone else in the twenty-first century. They stood up and followed her out, making some remarks about really wanting to see the rest of it. L-Rod insisted that it was important. She led them across the grounds to a shaded, grassy spot where Jeff and four other people were waiting.

“I'd like you to meet...” L-Rod began.

“Walter!” interrupted Rapunzel.

“Miss Rapunzel!” said Dr. Walter Bishop. “How are you doing?”

“Well, thank-you. And it's Mrs. Fitzherbert now,” she said holding up her left hand.

“Congratulations! So how long has it been...for you?” said Walter.

“About a year and a half.”

“And...can you control it?”

Rapunzel nodded.

“Wait,” said L-Rod, “you...well, of course you do...it's obvious. But....”

“A friend brought her to see me six months ago,” said Walter.

L-Rod furrowed her brow. “You just said it was a year and a half,” she said to Rapunzel.

“It's a long story.”

“We have time.”

“Um...can it wait until after 'Return of the King?' I really want to see what happens to Frodo and the others...the Frodo in the movie, of course.”

“Shouldn't we at least finish the introductions first?” said Eugene.

“Sorry. Silly me. Eugene, this is Dr. Walter Bishop and his son Peter. This is my husband Eugene, known out here as Outlaw.” She turned toward the other two and cocked an expectant eyebrow.

“Dr. Helen Magnus,” said the woman with the long black hair as he reached out to shake Rapunzel's hand.

“Dr. Will Zimmerman,” said the other young man, also shaking her hand. “Firewalker, I presume?”

“Call me Rapunzel if you want.” She looked over her shoulder. “I really don't mean to be rude, but can we do...whatever it is later?”

“These people have come an awfully long way,” said L-Rod.

“So have we,” said Eugene.

“It's alright,” said Helen, “we can wait.”

Having reached an agreement, the Fitzherberts went back inside, followed by Will, just in time for the opening credits of 'Return of the King.'

*****

“No, Walter,” said Peter sternly, “You are _not_ going to give her psychoactive drugs.”

“He's right,” said Helen, “We don't know how she would react. All we really know is that she has pyrokinesis, but without knowing why, any such experiments would be extremely dangerous.”

The sun was going down by the time the Fitzherberts and Will emerged and made their way to where the others were sitting around a table near the grassy area.

Walter looked up at her. “I'd still very much like to know if lysergic acid would open up her mind.”

“What?!” said Will. “You want to give her LSD? Are you crazy?”

“Most of us think so,” muttered Peter.

Will, Eugene and Rapunzel sat down.

“Well,” said Eugene, “We know how she reacts to caffeine and alcohol. Based on that, I'd be afraid to give her anything else...and that's putting it mildly.”

“So...what happens?” asked Walter.

Eugene and Rapunzel shared their observations, he as an outside observer and she with first-person experience.

“Interesting,” said Walter. “Maybe they're right. Maybe we shouldn't give you LSD. Which is a shame, since...”

“That's enough, Walter,” said Peter evenly.

“Not to be rude or anything,” said Eugene, “but why, exactly, are you four here? I mean, besides that, I presume, Jeff and L-Rod called you?”

Walter shared a brief account of his initial examination of Rapunzel following the incident at the Princess Palace. Helen outlined her work with abnormals, including Will's contribution.

“You think she might be one of these...abnormals?” said Eugene.

“That's what we're here to find out,” said Helen. “If she is, we'd like to extend an invitation to the Sanctuary.”

“And if I don't want to go?” said Rapunzel.

“It will be your choice, of course. But we'll still want to keep an eye on you for your own safety as well as that of those around you.”

“That...might be difficult,” said Eugene.

“Why?”

“It's complicated,” said Rapunzel.

“You keep saying that,” said L-Rod.

“Besides,” said Walter, “we specialize in complicated.”

Rapunzel sighed in resignation. “Alright, but don't say we didn't warn you.” She and Eugene proceeded to share, tag-team style, everything they knew about what had happened to Rapunzel to change her and what she'd been doing with it since then. Jeff and L-Rod were agog, despite what they'd seen. “And we're from the year sixteen hundred and three,” added Eugene.

“So you're four hundred years old?” said Helen excitedly.

“Oh, goodness, no!” said Rapunzel. “I'm twenty-one years old. Eugene's twenty-six. We traveled forward along the time axis. You'd have to ask Howl about that.”

They discussed the sun-blood and sun-tears, as well as they could considering the Fitzherberts' relatively weak foundation of scientific knowledge. Finally:

“So what can you do?” said Helen.

“Yes,” said Walter, “I'd very much like to see that.”

Rapunzel glanced at L-Rod.

“Well?” said L-Rod, “Show them.”

“What about our agreement?”

“I'm altering the deal. Please don't ask me to alter it any further.”

Rapunzel repeated the little display she'd done for L-Rod in the living room a couple of days before. It looked brighter in the failing light and she had more space to do it. “That's not all,” she said. She walked over to where some hikers were attempting to grill, lit the charcoal for them, then returned with a raw sausage in one hand and a raw hamburger patty in the other. She held them out and they began to sizzle and steam. A few minutes later, they were nicely cooked. She popped them into her mouth. Both hands then erupted briefly into flame to burn off the grease and she dusted the ash off her hands before setting them onto her hips. “Well? What's your prognosis, Doctors?”

“Remarkable!” said Walter.

“Impressive!” said Helen.

“And you say you had trouble adjusting to this, yes?” said Will.

“You have no idea,” muttered Eugene.

Rapunzel elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Yes. Yes, I did. But I eventually accepted it and now it feels just as natural as walking or breathing...most of the time.”

“Go on,” said Will.

“I'd rather not. It's...personal.”

“How personal?”

“Never you mind!” she retorted, clearly flustered. “That's between me and my husband!”

Everyone looked at everyone else and came to a mutual, unspoken agreement to drop that line of questioning.

“I can also kill animals by boiling their brains,” she said evenly. “They make good snacks on the trail. And no, I don't have to be in physical contact to do it.”

“It's my opinion,” said Helen, “that you're an abnormal. The cause doesn't matter much. My invitation to the Sanctuary still stands and you're welcome to take me up on it at any time. I advise you to be _very_ careful about when, where and how you exercise your abilities. People get very nervous about these sorts of things.”

“I agree,” said Walter, “I think you have the potential to become extremely powerful. That makes you very dangerous, both now and in the future.”

“Just as I was beginning to relax about this,” said L-Rod.

“How dangerous do you think she is?” said Jeff.

“She has the potential to destroy the world,” said Walter.

Peter put his hand up to his forehead and groaned.

“You're kidding,” said Helen.

“What, you too?” said Rapunzel. They looked at her. After a moment, she sighed. “Howl said Calcifer told him I'm the most dangerous person in the Universe. But that's ridiculous! Isn't it?”

Walter took something out of his pocket. “I modified this volt-meter after you left my lab that day.” He flipped a switch and held it up to her. He cocked an eyebrow. “Inconceivable!”

“What is it?” said Helen.

“It's getting stronger...a _lot_ stronger! The energy in that piece of ejecta should be diminishing, but it isn't. At this rate...” he paused and thought for a minute. “Within ten years, you should be powerful enough to destroy anything on, under, or above the earth.”

“But I don't _want_ to destroy things!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air. “I just want to finish my honeymoon, enjoy my life with my husband, have children and rule my kingdom! Why can't people just leave me alone and let me do that?!” She crossed her arms across her chest and pouted. Eugene usually thought it cute, but this time it made him a little nervous.

“Look,” said Eugene, “We'll be back on the trail in the morning and out of your hair,” he said to Jeff and L-Rod, “so we'll no longer be a danger to you or your guests.” He turned to Helen and Will.

“We'll be returning to sixteen-oh-three the day after we reach Manning Park. If this Sanctuary of yours exists in our time, we _might_ look it up, but that's not likely.” Then to Walter, “We appreciate your concern and your insight has been valuable, especially right after...it happened. We're here in the future, so we clearly don't destroy the world, nor do we conquer it, apparently. We're going back there...then...in a few months, so worrying about something we don't...didn't...do is pointless! Maybe we're just getting cranky because it's past dinner time. We certainly don't mean to be rude. After all, like L-Rod said, you people have traveled a long way. I suggest we drop this, have something to eat and talk about something else.” They all grudgingly agreed and dispersed to find food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiker Heaven in Agua Dulce is the best-known rest stop along the entire Pacific Crest Trail (see www.hikerheaven.com) and the Saufleys who run it are perhaps the best-known trail angels. They used to allow an unlimited stay, but with the ever-growing number of through-hikers, they were finally compelled a couple of seasons ago to declare a five-day limit. (Then again, if you're a through-hiker trying to make it to Canada before the snow shut down the northern Cascades, why would you take that many zeros in one place anyway?)
> 
> Trail angels are people who give selflessly to assist hikers. They do things like provide transportation to and from the trail, maintain water caches, run impromptu hostels (which in many cases take the form of a patch of living-room floor, or space in a back yard), perform random acts of food and drink, act as eyes and ears regarding information on trail conditions, and perform unofficial trail maintenance. Have you hugged a trail angel this season?
> 
> The Trans-Oregon Trail is my re-naming of William Sullivan's New Oregon Trail. (I did this to avoid confusion with the historic Oregon Trail.) In the mid-1980's, Sullivan set out to hike through all of the then-designated wilderness areas in Oregon, all on a single hike. His route began at Cape Blanco on the southern Oregon coast, went east through the Kalmiopsis Wilderness and met the PCT in the vicinity of Kangaroo Mountain. It followed the PCT as far as Sugar Pine Ridge on the southern side of Mt. Jefferson, whence it dove eastward to the Metolius River, then up the Crooked River through Prineville, then into the Ochocos, Strawberries, Blues and Wallowas to end up at Hells Canyon. His trek is chronicled in his book *Listening For Coyote* which is a good read.
> 
> Grey jays are relatively large birds that like people food. I've had them go after bagels, apples, cookies, etc. I've had them land on my hand to eat my food. I've even had them try to eat it while putting it into my own mouth! I find them quite amusing.


	6. Mojave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel set out across the Mojave desert with a small convoy of hikers in-tow.

The Fitzherberts opened the door to Howl's place via the closet in their room. They received their resupply and spent some time discussing what had transpired over the last three days. Howl shook his head in dismay, but figured they could all discuss it more after they'd rendezvoused at Kennedy Meadows. Geared up, fed up, and watered up, they all gathered at the grassy area. Once all were assembled, they all struck out north to a steady refrain and additional verses of, “It's a Hiker's Life For Me.”

Three days later, the micro-herd snaked down a fence line on their final descent to the Antelope Valley, the northernmost arm of the Mojave Desert. There, they would face the single stretch of trail most dreaded by PCT through-hikers. Once on the valley floor, hikers must drag themselves across twenty miles of flat, dusty, dirt-road-walking through the hottest, driest, psychologically toughest part of the trail. The universal opinion of this bit was that it totally sucks.

The Fitzherberts were to resupply at HikerTown, an odd assortment of buildings near the southern edge of the valley and serving as a hostel and staging area to help catapult hikers through the desert and up into the Tehachapi Mountains. Everyone took refuge in the air-conditioned interior, except for Rapunzel, who stretched out on a plank porch to bask in the intense heat and sun. The universal opinion was that she was nuts. Even Eugene, who understood her much better than anyone else present, agreed, an assertion that earned him a well-placed elbow to the ribs from his beloved.

Eugene found an obliging door that he hoped was out of the way. He was wrong. Several other hikers walked up behind him and insisted on seeing what he was doing. He figured they were curious, but feared it could be a security issue. He understood, and tried to keep his annoyance from showing too much. He fixed the maker to the door and activated it.

After a few moments, the door opened to reveal the interior of Howl's mum's house in Wales, quite to the astonishment of the other hikers. Eugene brushed off all questions about how it worked, which wasn't difficult because he himself had absolutely no idea how it worked either. Howl stepped out into the room and Eugene made the introductions, even as his fellow hikers recovered from their surprise.

Howl graciously explained how the portal worked, which was, of course, high-level quantum physics and even the few hikers who'd studied it in college barely understood half of what Howl was saying—one of them had an uncle who was a professor of theoretical physics at Stanford and was feverishly scribbling notes in the back of his trail journal, intent on sharing it later. None of them had anticipated that they'd accumulate an entourage. Howl half-jokingly suggested that Eugene give Rapunzel a beer, much to the agitation of the others. Sophie ribbed her husband for being impossible.

After collecting their resupply, Eugene closed the door, returned to where he and Rapunzel had deposited their packs and stowed the marker and their food. There had been much discussion and disagreement about whether they should resume hiking at the onset of dusk, or rise before dawn the next morning after a good night's sleep. Night hiking here had the advantage of being cooler, which wasn't saying much, as well as providing the possibility of seeing nocturnal wildlife.

At least one hiker suggested that anyone was perfectly free to continue if they wished, but no one wanted to miss Rapunzel's promised demonstration in the High Sierra. When it became known that the Fitzherberts did not intend to make the hitch into Mojave or Tehachapi, a few others forged onward after reaching a general consensus that the former would take a full zero at Kennedy Meadows to wait for those heading into either of the two cities. Those remaining chose to tarry until moon-rise and set out then.

*****

The full moon rose at 02.00. Soon it was bright enough to wake everyone. Eugene and Rapunzel found it almost, but not quite, as good as a sunbath and was sufficient to keep them from being grumpy. It also gave more than enough light that no one had to use a head-lamp and Rapunzel didn't have to use fire to light their way. They all topped off their water at the Cottonwood Creek bridge under the watch of the rising sun and were well into their climb from the valley floor into the Tehachapi Mountains before the scorching heat turned its fury upon the valley below them. They took a break as they passed into the tree-line, such as it was.

Two days later, they reached Tehachapi Pass. Being in no particular hurry, Eugene and Rapunzel waited for the others to hitch rides before continuing north themselves. By then it was late in the day, so they chose to camp at a flat spot near the foot of an intimidating set of switchbacks two miles long. They agreed it would be a good idea to assault them in the morning when they'd be rested up after a good night's sleep.

*****

Rapunzel took point ascending the switchbacks. Eugene found his attention being pulled in three directions at once. There was the practical matter of seeing to his own footing as he trudged along the trail. Having hiked just over 560 miles, that was about as second-nature to him as Rapunzel's pyrokinesis was to her. Still, sound safety practices were critical to the success of a through-hike and a moment of inattentiveness could easily lead to a disastrous misstep. There was also the scenery. There wasn't much within view that was really terribly different from anything else they'd seen so far, but he still didn't want to miss a thing.

What competed most strongly for his attention was his wife. She'd always been slender and graceful—at least, he assumed so. Even on the day they'd met, it had been obvious—a bit unrefined, undeveloped, untrained and perhaps a little soft around the edges, the latter unsurprising given the physical limitations of her lifelong confinement. In the three years since they'd rescued each other, she had blossomed. He'd said as much, although she hadn't taken it well—her false mother had called her a flower as a pet name and Rapunzel had been actively trying to put all that behind her, which had apparently been successful as she'd chosen a flower as the primary heraldic charge on her new arms. He still thought the metaphor appropriate. She'd gone from tight bud through anthesis and was now in full bloom.

The physical training she'd done over the couple of years since her homecoming had developed her muscles beyond the surprising upper-body strength she already possessed and had vastly improved her endurance. The last month-and-a-half on the trail, however, had worked wonders on her. The last of her sub-cutaneous fat had burned away, revealing trail-sculpted muscles that rippled with every step. Each motion was a smooth, fluid continuation of the one before and transitioned seamlessly into the next. Every line from the tip of her nose to her dirt-encrusted toes was hard, straight and unblemished. The trail had chiseled, carved, sculpted, sanded, pounded and all but pummeled her into flawless perfection. Athena, Aphrodite, Queen Maeve, Joan of Arc, Helen of Troy and Cleopatra all would have deeply envied Rapunzel's new physique, confidence and power.

Something told him there was still room for improvement, but he'd be darned if he could see where. She was indeed, as far as he was concerned, a goddess in every way that mattered. Eugene suddenly found himself wanting her in the worst way.

 _Why does this always happen at the least-convenient times?_ he thought. _Well, not always, but sometimes it feels that way._

He paused, took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and slowly let it out. Through force of will, he gathered up the sudden peak of nervous energy and redirected it into the upward motion that pushed him and his beloved ever northward.

She apparently sensed her husband's change in demeanor and paused to look back over her shoulder at him. She glanced down at his midsection, then rolled her eyes and slowly shook her head in amusement.

“Men!” she teased.

“Is it that obvious?” he said.

“It is to me.” She tilted her head a bit and smiled. “I felt a spike in your body heat.”

It was Eugene's turn to slowly shake his head. “Honey, you never cease to amaze me. Being married to you is likely to be many things, but there is no doubt in my mind that it will _never_ be boring!”

She giggled, turned around, and they resumed their steady upward pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HikerTown is a small hiker hostel on the southern edge of the Antelope Valley. It's a welcome stop in an otherwise drastically waterless stretch of the PCT. www.hikerstown.com
> 
> The only other water in this section is at the Cottonwood Creek bridge.
> 
> Section-hikers almost always do this section dead-last...everyone hates it that much!


	7. Kennedy Meadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel at last arrive at Kennedy Meadows, the PCT gateway to the High Sierra. Eugene makes an alarming discovery about himself. More family and friends join them for their journey through these high mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end should be sung to the tune of "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers.

Eugene and Rapunzel strolled along the Kern River Valley just a few miles south of Kennedy Meadows. It was mid-afternoon and they were in good spirits. Rapunzel had managed to obtain an acceptable amount of snack food thanks to the desert reptile life. While they'd eaten the last of their food shortly before noon, they were not more than two hours away from the General Store, even at this relaxed pace.

It was hard to believe that they'd been in the Sierra Nevada Mountains since Tehachapi Pass and even harder to believe they were on the doorstep of what was generally considered to be the gateway to the High Sierra. The dominant plant community around them was sagebrush scrub. Ponderosa pine and western juniper grew on low hills bordering the broad, flat valley. After a while, the tread broadened and they were able to dispense with their poles to walk side-by-side, hand-in-hand. They spoke little, but exchanged the occasional warm glance. The moments merged into one another and for a short while, everything else faded away, and there were only the two of them and the trail. The feeling stretched on and soon they were on their final approach into Kennedy Meadows.

The township, if one could call it that, was what the Fitzherberts might have recognized as an odd mixture of Old West, backwoods white trash, and quintessential rural mountain. The General Store looked like something straight out of a Western movie. The place was reasonably hiker-friendly, although some of the area residents were less so. A few of them resented hikers for, as they often less-than-diplomatically put it, messing up the mountains.

They found something resembling dinner and spent the evening relaxing on a semi-shady slope overlooking the Kern River. The now not-quite-so-distant peaks of the High Sierra beckoned to them over the northern end of the valley. The declining light of the sun bounced yellow-orange off the rocks to the east. They sat on the ground, their backs against a log, Eugene's arm around his wife's waist and her head resting on his shoulder.

“It's beautiful,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, “and never will be so again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never again will it be so beautiful because never again will you be here to grace it with your presence.”

She sighed and nuzzled up a little closer. He glanced over at her. “Honey, you're glowing,” he said matter-of-factly. That he'd come to regard this as normal surprised him a little. The day they'd met, he'd completely freaked out about her hair. Now, even after she'd acquired new, stronger, more frightening abilities, it all seemed perfectly natural to the point that half the time he forgot that she was unique in the known Universe. That he completely accepted it gave him warm fuzzies.

“M-hmm,” she said contentedly. She wasn't even remotely surprised anymore. She'd also started being able to feel it, although it was still something quite involuntary. After a few moments, her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head toward him and gasped. “Eugene!”

“What?” His voice was now suddenly tense.

“You...” her voice trailed off.

“I what?”

She twisted away from his arm, pivoting to face him, and knelt in front of him. She took his face in her hands and peered into his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked uncertainly.

She said nothing.

“Honey, you're making me nervous,” he said.

After a few moments, her eyes went wide, her face lit up and she gasped in delight. “Oh, Eugene!” she squealed and threw her arms around him.

He reflexively hugged her back. “To what do I owe that?”

“Why didn't I notice it before?”

He looked at her with befuddlement.

“You have it too!” she continued.

“What do I have too?”

She tipped her head to the side. “You were glowing,” she said simply.

“I was _what?!_ ”

“You were glowing,” she repeated.

“But...that's impossible...isn't it? I mean, how could I possibly have been glowing?”

She just tilted her head and looked at him expectantly, waiting for it to dawn on him.

After a few moments, his eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. “Wait...no, no, no” he said, “When...how...I don't understand.”

“It all makes sense!” she said. “It explains everything.”

“It does?”

“Yes! It explains why you haven't been sick since we returned from my tower the final time. It explains why you heal so quickly, why you also get irritable if we don't get our morning sun-bath, why it feels so good to you, why I suspected that you don't get sunburned, why we feel such a strong connection to each other, and what I saw when my tear healed you.”

“What...did you see? You've been rather moot on the subject.”

Rapunzel sighed and gave Eugene that sheepish shrug he found so irresistibly adorable. “I'm sorry. I was still trying to process things. That, and being overwhelmed at being Princess and by the time I was ready to talk about it, I was in the midst of dealing with my pyrokinesis. So it just kind of slipped. Anyway,” she continued, suddenly growing more animated, “when my tear fell on you, I saw it migrate toward your injury. Then it started glowing, grew, and sort of...blossomed...into something like a large flower...but all made of light. I watched it gather up the energy in the room, consolidate it, then collapse back inside you. Then you awoke and all that mattered to me at that moment was that you were alive!”

“So...it's still inside me, then?” He said it more like a statement.

She nodded, that smile of hers still plastered across her bright-eyed face. “Yes. It's in your bones and in your nervous system, just like it is in mine.”

He sat there and blinked at her for a few moments. Then he opened his mouth, closed it again, and blinked some more.

“Well?” she said, “Say something.”

“I...I really don't know _what_ to say. I...” he trailed off, opening and closing his mouth, apparently searching unsuccessfully for words.

She moved her right hand and pinched his lips closed. “Eugene? We are not a codfish,” she teased, then released him. “If you look any more like a fish, I might be tempted to eat you.”

He chuckled, relaxing a little. “So...um...why haven't I...glowed...before?”

She shrugged. “I guess you've finally had enough sun exposure.”

“What does it mean...for us?”

“I'm not sure yet. But we're connected...in a way more profound than I think either of us realizes. I can feel it. Every time we...come together...it grows stronger. We're sun-bearers, Eugene...you and I. Isn't it wonderful?”

He blinked a few times. “Wonderful? I...It's...certainly overwhelming. Know what I mean?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” she said somberly.

They smiled at each other. She turned around, sat down between his legs and rested her back against his chest.

“Just hold me for a while,” she said. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed the scent of her hair. The sky gradually grew darker and darker until deep night closed in around them.

Eugene could tell when his wife had fallen asleep. It wasn't so much that he yet had a lot of experience observing her in her sleep. She did, however, twitch, something she told him he did in his sleep. He never really did get to sleep himself, though not from any lack of trying...and maybe that was partly why it eluded him. Mostly, though, his thoughts kept him awake. At first, he wondered, in what began as a sleep-deprived fuzziness, if he'd imagined it. The more he tried to convince himself of that, however, the less he believed it.

He went from fuzzy to bleary to jittery, his body and mind warring for control of his consciousness. He wondered where he'd gone wrong...or _if_ he'd gone wrong. Why couldn't he have had a normal life with a normal wife, a normal family, a normal job, a normal...well, everything? In the end, he had to admit he really should know better. From the time he first left the orphanage, or when he climbed the tower, or...well, any number of other choices he'd made that had put his life on a collision course with Rapunzel's...he should have known his life would never be normal.

And yet, to be honest, he really couldn't imagine anything else. _But why_ , he thought, _did it have to be like THIS?_ Yet, if this was what had become the closest thing to normal Eugene Fitzherbert would ever know, and if he'd embraced it as he thought he had, then why did he feel so...weird?

*****

Eugene watched the sky going from midnight blue to light blue to dull orange as the earth turned in the inexorable rotation that would soon bring them face-to-face with the sun...the same sun a piece of which he had now been told resided within him.

He still sat there, his wife in his arms, the two of them leaning up against that log. He had a bit of a crick in his neck, but he expected that to somehow work its way out in a couple of hours. It was quite chilly and he was ever-so-glad his wife was so literally hot. He had to admit that was one reason he didn't want to wake her just yet. So he sat there holding her until the sun's first rays peeked over the eastern hills and fell onto them both, those rays that felt better and better every day. Rapunzel then awoke, looked at the sun and then up at her husband, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said.

“Good morning yourself,” she replied.

“Breakfast?”

“You do know how to sweet-talk a girl.”

He chuckled, they disentangled themselves and stood up. Eugene stretched. “You know, I used to have at least one joint go crick-crick-crick when I did this...but not so much anymore. It must be all that exercise.”

“Oh? Are you sure it's not my rejuvenating influence?” she teased.

“It certainly could be,” he admitted. “I've heard being married helps keep you young.”

“I've heard that, too.”

They picked up their packs and strolled off in the direction of the General Store.

“Did you really see me glow?” said Eugene after a little while.

“Yes,” said Rapunzel simply.

Eugene exhaled deeply.

“Is something wrong, dearest?” she asked, sensing his tension.

“Well...actually...I have no idea. It's just...I mean...strange...I guess.”

“Stranger than being married to me?”

“Um...well...at least I _feel_ strange.”

“How did you feel yesterday?”

“Pretty much like always...I guess. Besides, being married to you isn't strange.”

“Is that so?” she said incredulously.

“Yes, that's so.”

“You're telling me that that being married to a princess who glows and who can create fire with her mind isn't strange, but that being able to glow yourself is?”

“Now that you put it that way...and it just occurs to me that this may be the oddest conversation we've ever had.”

Rapunzel giggled. “Oh, dearest, you're so funny. Really, though...what's changed since yesterday?”

“You mean besides that I _GLOW?_ ”

“I glow, too, remember?”

“Of course I remember. But you were born that way! With that glowy...thing.”

“Oh, it's a thing, now, is it?”

“That's not what I meant.”

She half-glowered at him with a raised eyebrow.

Eugene finally sighed. “I'm sorry,” he said resignedly. “Should I have those words tattooed on my forehead?”

She smiled slightly at that. “Seriously, what changed between yesterday and today?”

Eugene shook his head slowly.

“I'll tell you exactly what's changed...nothing. You've borne sun-tears for three years now. My best guess is that it's only finally grown strong enough to make you glow. So really, the only thing that's different from yesterday is that now you _know_ about it. I also seem to remember something about gaining superhuman strength from my hair.”

“Honestly, as stupendous as it would have been, I probably would have freaked out about that, too. So...why didn't you tell me about this before?”

“I think you just demonstrated why. That, and by the time I was ready to talk about it, I was in the middle of dealing with my pyrokinesis. By the time I'd adjusted to _that_...it was almost a moot point. And I didn't think it was important. But you're right...I should have told you...and I apologize.”

Eugene exhaled. “There's nothing to forgive. _you're_ right. I'm overreacting. It still feels weird...psychologically at least. I'm...going to have to get used to it...you know what I mean?”

She giggled a little. “More than I think you truly realize.”

They resumed their stroll.

“I can't wait to tell my parents,” Rapunzel said cheerfully.

“Um...yeah...about that....”

Rapunzel looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. Eugene sighed and continued.

“When I talked to your father about marrying you, he said the thing that reassured him the most was that I would be contributing a certain amount of...normality to our relationship.”

She furrowed her brow. “Normality? Eugene, there's nothing normal about any of this!”

“I know...believe me, I know. I think your father was having difficulty dealing with it. Not in the same way you were...or like I am now...but in his own way. Think about it. First you return after eighteen years, all grown up and with a man in tow. Then you reveal that you had magical powers until earlier that same day. Then you meet people from another world. Then you go there and return with...what do people here call it...ah, yes, superpowers. Then it turns out you still have the hitherto believed vanished powers. Then you get married and honeymoon on the other side of the world four centuries in the future. That's all in the space of three years. It's enough to make someone explode, even if they _don't_ have sun-blood.

“The knowledge that his decidedly goddess-like daughter was marrying a mere mortal gave him a great deal of comfort. He sees me as a stabilizing influence. Although if he really knew me like I know me...I digress. Anyway, I expect that to change when he finds out I have sun-tears, too. That suddenly strikes me as weird...again. I mean...I don't _feel_ any different.”

“Dearest, my parents still love us. It'll be a bit more of a shock for sure, but compared to what's already happened, I think it'll be minor. Most importantly, they'll get over it....and so will you.”

“Alright. But don't be surprised if I occasionally scream for no apparent reason.”

She smiled at him. “You'll adapt. I promise.”

“It looks like maybe _I'll_ be taking afterglow literally too.”

She giggled. “See? You're improving already.”

*****

They strolled on, hand-in-hand, found an obliging door and Eugene affixed the marker to it. They were ahead of schedule. Howl hadn't retrieved Harold and Liesel and he and Sophie weren't packed yet. Eugene and Rapunzel would have an additional zero at Kennedy Meadows. They made the most of it, relaxing, taking dips in the Kern River, sun-bathing, eating and visiting with locals and hikers.

Rapunzel's reputation seemed to have preceded her and it became clear that the number of hikers that might be interested in following them into the High Sierra was rapidly verging on impractical, not to mention potentially in violation of wilderness regulations. A few of those they'd left at Tehachapi Pass arrived, obviously trying very hard to contain their anticipation. Some of _them_ looked like they'd pushed themselves to, or in a couple of cases past, their endurance lest they miss out on Rapunzel's promised demonstration. It was looking like Eugene and Rapunzel might have to take yet another zero just to let _those_ people rest before beginning their grueling assault on the High Sierra.

After a considerable amount of discussion, it was generally agreed that they'd all have to break up into at least three groups and rendezvous on the Bighorn Plateau just south of Forrester Pass—it held the most promise as a really good place for her demonstration anyway.

*****

Eugene and Rapunzel crawled into their tent shortly before dusk. They'd made camp a fair distance from town, figuring it would be best to spend some more time out of the way.

“A stabilizing influence, huh?” said Rapunzel.

Eugene had noted how women had this remarkable ability to instantly jump back into any point of any conversation at any time, no matter how long ago it had been or what was happening now. He wisely kept his mouth closed about it, something he'd been ever-so-slowly learning since he'd first met Rapunzel.

“Honestly, honey,” he said instead, “I'm not sure I _want_ to stabilize you. Your parents might disagree with that, but I think we all know you're more than smart enough to at least act like you're...um...stabilized when necessary.”

“Act like I'm stabilized?” said Rapunzel, just a little irritably. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means following that long list of things Princesses are supposed to do whenever you're acting in your capacity as Princess.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, maybe with the exception of the shoes thing.”

That brought a giggle.

“I mean, I won't try to tell you when to buck tradition or thumb your nose at convention...because God knows I'm entirely the wrong person to be asking about what's appropriate...but...I guess what I'm trying to say is...never stop being yourself. You're just far too much fun and you're way too adorable and irresistible to be tied down by a bunch of rules, silly or otherwise.”

Rapunzel leaned over and wrapped her arms around Eugene, resting her chin on his shoulder, then sighed.

“Mama was right about you. You may be a bit rough around the edges, but you have a heart of pure gold.”

Eugene just smiled and held Rapunzel a bit closer.

“One question remains, though” whispered Rapunzel in Eugene's ear, “what are you going to do with me tonight?”

“You're not thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking, are you?”

“If I'm thinking you're thinking what I think you're thinking I'm thinking, then...of course! Besides, I want to see if I can make you glow.” She giggled softly.

“Um....” he began, but then was cut off by a kiss from his wife.

“You know you want it, too,” she said after releasing the kiss. “And you're just as curious as I am. Besides, _that_ ,” she glanced down and back up, “is not something you can hide from me.”

“Well...” he havered.

“Come on,” she teased, “give in to the Dark Side.”

“You _would_ make a light joke.”

“Is that opposed to a heavy one?”

He groaned. “You...” He leaned over and kissed her, she kissed back....

A little while later, they lay there beside each other under the dimming canopy of their tent, gazing into each other's wide-eyed faces.

“Now I know why you like seeing me glow,” she said with a slight giggle. “It's quite something.”

“You're not kidding! It's still surreal, though...surreal, but nice.”

“Surreal but nice?”

“Was it my imagination, or did you glow more brightly than you have before?”

“It wasn't your imagination,” she said with a slight shake of the head. “I think seeing you glow made me glow more.”

“It _was_ rather bright in here, wasn't it?”

She giggled again. “I don't know if it was a psychological response, or if we set up some sort of resonance with each other.”

“I think further research is required,” he said leaning closer to her.

“Wow, you're on fire tonight!”

“What?” he said with sudden alarm, jerking a hand upward and looking at it with concern.

She giggled and rolled her eyes. “I meant metaphorically, silly.”

“Oh. Right. Now, where were we....”

A short time later, they again lay beneath their dimming tent, gazing into each other's eyes.

“Alright, honey, I yield.”

“You'd better,” she said with mock indignation.

“We'd better get some actual sleep, too. I was up all last night.”

She snuggled up to him. “And whose fault was that?”

Eugene decided to evade that question. “I still think I'm married to a goddess...or an angel.”

Rapunzel giggled. “Go to sleep, dearest.”

*****

In late afternoon of their second zero, Eugene again fixed the marker to the previously-utilized door and ushered Harold, Liesel, Howl, Sophie, Lettie, her husband Osric and Howl's nephew Neil into Kennedy Meadows.

Eugene showed Rapunzel her bear can. At first she didn't recognize the contents. When he explained it, she squeed quite loudly. He'd filled it up with macadamia nuts and filled the spaces between them with molten, now re-solidified, German dark chocolate. The only way to squeeze more calories into that volume would have been to fill the whole thing with olive oil. Eugene had also arranged for two liters of good extra-virgin Greek olive oil anyway, knowing that she'd need those calories too, not to mention the omega-9 fats, gambling on the idea that if she could voluntarily devour a whole raw trout, she'd be willing to drink straight olive oil.

They swapped out their nearly-filled trail journals with blank ones and collected the rest of their resupply, including fresh lithium-ion batteries and a fresh memory card for Eugene's digital camera—Howl had insisted on it as a good way to visually record their journey and Rapunzel had forbidden herself from touching it.

They walked the couple of miles up the trail to Kennedy Meadows Campground and went about a lazy evening. They'd brought heavy, still-hydrated, decidedly non-hiker-food for dinner and the following breakfast courtesy of Howl's sister. Rapunzel ignited the firewood, but otherwise refrained from much pyro-exertion. Lettie and Sophie did the cooking.

Most of their cloud of followers was lurking nearby, close enough to move out on anything resembling a cue, but trying to remain discreet about it. Rapunzel wasn't sure how she felt about that and neither did Eugene. They ignored it as best they could and instead brought the family up to speed on their hike since they'd parted ways at Warner Springs. Howl's extended family had been privy to some of it—while they'd all been quite distracted when they'd first arrived in Wales during the evacuation from Ingary, they'd spent a good bit of time chatting with Rapunzel during her subsequent visit following her engagement. Their visiting and general revelry lasted until, through, and quite long after dinner.

“Eugene, dear,” said Liesel finally, “you seem a bit...tense. Are you sure everything is alright?”

“You are right,” said Sophie, “he _is_ tense.”

They all then looked expectantly at Eugene, who squirmed under their collective gaze.

“I...we...have something to tell you,” he said after a rather pregnant pause.

Liesel's face lit up and she looked at Rapunzel. “Are you?”

“What?” said Rapunzel, then immediately realized what her mother was really asking. She put a hand up to her mouth and blushed a little. “Oh, no. It's...nothing like that.” She looked at Eugene, who suddenly seemed to be having a bit of trouble with his tongue. She sighed. “Eugene glows too!” she said rapidly.

Sophie let out a truncated eeping sound. Howl looked at her. “Was that a squee?” he asked. Sophie nodded and Howl chuckled.

“What?” said Harold.

“She gave it to me,” said Eugene in a slightly accusatory tone, pointing at his wife.

“Eugene,” she said, sounding a little annoyed. “It's not a disease.”

Harold sighed. “And here I was, thinking my son-in-law had brought you a dose of reality.”

“Reality?” said Rapunzel, now definitely annoyed. “Daddy, reality came hurtling out of the sky and pounded me into the ground. I doubt many people have much room to talk to me about reality.”

Harold sighed. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's just that this power you have...it's...weird.”

“I think it is...” Sophie said a word in her language and looked at Howl.

“Phenomenal,” said Howl.

“Maybe so,” he admitted, “but I don't know how to deal with a daughter with such...phenomenal cosmic power.”

“In an itty-bitty living space!” said Eugene in a high-pitched voice, obviously relaxing some. He gently poked Rapunzel in the ribs with a finger.

“Hey!” she squeaked. “That tickles!”

“Does it, now?” He escalated the tickling until she was wriggling like a worm and laughing.

“Stop it, stop it!” she protested between laughs and gasps. He kept going and soon they both toppled over backward onto a bed of pine needles, legs kicking the air. He stopped tickling and they both lay there for a few moments laughing and panting.

“See?” said Liesel to her husband. “Despite what she has attached to her, she's still very much a normal girl... _our_ normal girl. The same goes for her husband. Besides, they're perfect for each other. That means a lot.”

Eugene and Rapunzel picked themselves up and reclaimed their log.

“Daddy,” said Rapunzel, “you deal with me the same way you would if I _didn't_ have phenomenal...cosmic...power.” She punctuated the words by poking Eugene in the ribs, making him giggle in a decidedly unmanly way that amused Rapunzel and her parents.

“Look,” said Eugene, gently grabbing his wife's hands and placing his arms firmly around her, “we're all adjusting. I'm adjusting to being glowy. She's adjusting to having phenomenal cosmic power. You're all adjusting to us having those abilities. We're adjusting to being married. You're adjusting to a new world.” The last was directed at the Jenkins family. “We all have that in common. And now, for another couple of weeks, we also have the Trail in common. So let's celebrate, for we all have a grand new adventure before us!” He paused. “And I just realized I've given myself my own pep talk.” That got a round of chuckles and giggles.

“So,” said Liesel, “do you have to sing that song?”

“Actually,” said Eugene, “no.” He glanced at his wife. “Neither does she. I have no idea why.”

“Because the writers said so?” said Howl.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Speaking of songs,” said Neil, “let's have a few, shall we?”

Their collective mood noticeably lightened after that. Lettie brought out something similar to an Irish tin whistle and began to play something vaguely Celtic-sounding. Rapunzel and Eugene got up and danced. Howl and Sophie joined them, then Harold and Liesel. After a short while, Lettie brought the tune to a resolution and they all returned to their seats. Then Neil started with a tune of his own, a song he'd picked up during his own through-hike the year before:

I was headed toward Laguna, a week into a through-hike  
When up ahead, I saw somebody sittin' by a tree  
And as I drew closer, I could tell he was a hiker  
And so I walked right up to him and I asked to share his shade

Soon we got to talkin' mostly about hikin'  
He told me about sixty years he'd spent upon the trail  
He had lots of stories full of guts and glory  
Then he handed me some jerky and he gave me this advice

He said you gotta know when to treat it, know when to drink it  
Know when to take a pass and know when to wait  
You never count your zeros when you're standin' there at Campo  
There'll be time enough for countin' when your through-hike's done

Every hiker knows that the secret to survival  
Is knowin' how to use the gear that sits between your ears  
'Cause every mile can make you and every mile can break you  
So put one foot before the other and keep a level head

Howl and Eugene joined in the chorus

Then he looked off toward the distance and said, 'I'm feelin' tired'  
Then he gave a sigh and closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep  
Then somewhere in the darkness, the hiker he reached Manning  
And in his final words I found some trail food I could eat

The others joined in the chorus this time and light laughter followed it.

“That was...accurate,” said Eugene.

Rapunzel giggled. “Accurate? Oh, dearest, you're so funny.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Another hour and several more songs—some hiking-related, some not—later, they all figured it was time to turn in. Rapunzel walked over to her parents and gave them both long, firm hugs.

“I love you both,” she told them. “I just thought I'd say that. It took me some time to learn to love you during that first year. It was hard on you in ways I hope never to know. Anyway, I felt that feeling rise up in me just now, so I figured I needed to let it out...you know?”

Harold and Liesel hugged their daughter close, tears welling up in their eyes. Liesel glanced up at Eugene and raised an eyebrow. Unlike that first time nearly four years ago, Eugene stepped over and voluntarily joined their group hug.

Eugene initially kept his eyes closed, not really wanting to know whether or not the warm fuzzies he was feeling were making him glow. It wasn't like he could do anything about it anyway, so he just tried to relax. He soon gave up and peeked. Rapunzel was glowing and, sure enough, so was he. He wasn't sure if it was more or less awkward than that first group hug back when the four of them were still more or less perfect strangers. He was suddenly aware that he didn't really care. They were his people, they loved him, he loved them and he felt happier than he figured any man had a right to be.

When they broke their huddle, Rapunzel extinguished the fire and they all crawled into their tents. Yes, Eugene mused, his life was turning out to be very good indeed...definitely not easy, but good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geologically, the Sierra Nevada begin at Tehachapi Pass (as reckoned relative to the PCT), though you'd never know it by the surrounding vegetation. Kennedy Meadows is generally agreed to be the beginning of the High Sierra, though this designation is a little fuzzy.


	8. Whitney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene, Rapunzel and their growing entourage leave Kennedy Meadows for their assault on the High Sierra! They climb Mt. Whitney, on which Eugene and Rapunzel make another alarming discovery about sun-tears.

Outlaw's Log  
June 14, 2011  
Monanche Meadow  
Miles: 16.0 Trip miles: 717.6

Firewalker and I are the first to arise in the morning. Sophie decides to join us for our sun-bath. This seems to effect on her much like it does us. Apparently, starfire is close enough to sun-tears. The breakfast routine mirrors dinner. Using titanium cookware seems to be different than cast-iron or stainless steel and our wives have much less trouble burning things than they did last night. Clean-up's a breeze, thanks to Firewalker.

From the sounds around us, it seems most of the other hikers are feverishly trying to get themselves and their gear together in time for our departure. That's crazy...we are to take four days to reach the JMT junction, plus another day to climb Mt. Whitney and then maybe another day after that. There will be _plenty_ of time to catch up! They also know to meet at the Bighorn Plateau...shouldn't be hard either, as it's on all the maps. It's a good thing some of us have grown used to having crowds of admirers, otherwise I'd find this unnerving.

I take point, with Neil and Howl taking up the rear. It's a good thing all the other hikers are hanging back and trying to keep their distance as much as they are. After leaving the Kern River Valley, there simply isn't enough room for everyone. There's barely enough space for the nine of us and even finding decent places for breaks is challenging. I do believe it will be _very_ crowded on Mt. Whitney!

 

Firewalker's Log

We're up before almost anyone else, except maybe for Sophie. I can tell by the heat signatures in our own camp and those around us...I can almost count on one hand the number of people who are even awake...people cool down a _lot_ when they're asleep versus when they're awake, especially first thing in the morning. Sophie joins us for our sun-bath.

We do the breakfast thing like the dinner thing. Howl and Neil teach me about thermal mass and specific heat, which helps me understand why titanium and cast iron behave differently. I love being me!  
Most of the other hikers aren't bothering with their stoves this morning. There's also a great deal of commotion, which would be obvious even without my thermal sensitivity. Are they really that desperate to be right on our heels? That's silly, since we won't be hard to follow...just step onto the PCT and go north...how hard can that be? It's a good thing being Crown Princess is such a public sort of job...otherwise I might be more annoyed, especially since part of the point of coming out here is to get away from people.

I'm right behind Outlaw as we leave camp. Mama and Daddy are behind me, Lettie and Osric behind them, Howl and Sophie behind them, and Neil bringing up the rear. Nine of us...just like the Fellowship of the Ring! That's kind of appropriate, since this _is_ my honeymoon and the rest of us are either married or engaged, so.... All the other hikers are strung out behind us, which is a good thing, since this stretch isn't exactly replete with wide spots for breaks, let alone for camping. It's a good thing Neil's been here before, otherwise I might be a little concerned about finding a campsite big enough for all of us.

*****

Everyone crowded around Neil. He stood near a sign marking the boundary of Sequoia National Park. It stuck out of the snow, which was a foot or so deep.

“I'm sorry, Princess,” he said, “I'm afraid you'll have to stay behind.”

“What?” she said with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

“It says right here,” he continued, pointing at some words on the sign, “'No Weapons.'”

“Ha, ha,” said Rapunzel dryly. Everyone else snickered, although a few of the other hikers behind them looked a little nervous.

“Um,” said one, “you mean 'weapon' in the martial arts sense, right?”

“Not exactly,” said Eugene.

“What?”

“You'll see,” said Rapunzel with a sigh.

“Should I be afraid?”

“Very,” said Howl.

“Um...yeah. Seriously, should we be afraid?”

“If you had any idea what she's carrying, you'd be absolutely terrified out of your mind!”

A couple of the hikers turned white as a sheet. The rest just stared at Howl like codfish.

“Howl,” said Sophie quietly after he'd turned around, “you are terrible.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I, now?”

“Yes.” Then she continued in Ingarian. “But I must admit, it was quite amusing.” She leaned up and kissed him. “That is one of the reasons I love you so very much...even if you _are_ incorrigible!”

“You do realize I was serious, don't you?”

“Of course I do.” She smiled at him. “That does not change the fact that you are irreconcilably the most difficult man on this world.”

“Then it's a good thing you love me.” Howl kissed Sophie again. He noticed some quizzical looks from the others and reverted to English. “Never mind.”

A few vague chuckles bounced around the onlookers before they all crossed into the park.

*****

Outlaw's Log  
June 19, 2011  
Crabtree Meadow  
Miles: 16 Trip miles: 767.2

We arise early for our climb up Mt. Whitney. It is to be a 16-mile round trip, some of which will take us pretty much straight up a wall. We load lunch in our hip packs and start up the eastward trail. Firewalker quickly eats a chipmunk—I'm unsure if she even cooked it and that has me concerned. I don't think she knows that I know. Surely she isn't that hungry _already_ , is she? No one reacts, so I don't think they notice. Just wait until she eats a marmot!

We let Firewalker set the pace for the ascent. The switchbacks are downright murderous! At least the view is good! Oh, and the scenery's nice, too. I'm a little concerned about her feet, for it's awfully rocky...she's not complaining and I don't see any blood, so I suppose she's well. The air's very thin up here and I've never been breathing so heavily in my entire life, even after going all-out in armor for an hour straight! It doesn't sound like it's any easier for any of the others.

We finally reach the spine that holds Mt. Whitey, Mt. Muir and a few peaks. Hikers are strung out along the trails in all directions...the way we came, the eastern trail down to Whitney Portal and the trail northward toward the summit. We take a break to catch our breaths and drink some water before completing the last half-mile. It's a little disappointing, for I was expecting a better view from the second-highest peak on the North American continent. Neil explains the geology, so that puts things into perspective. We take photos, eat lunch and enjoy it as best we can, for all that it's cold and windy up here. Lettie, Osric and Sophie are all having trouble with altitude sickness. Sophie helps them with their biochemical balance—apparently it's more of a neurological thing with Ingarians...and Howl said something about the thicker atmosphere of their homeworld. It's early afternoon now. Thunderclouds are building right over us and we still have to descend.

Suddenly, everyone's hair starts standing up on end. Howl yells for everyone to “hit the dirt,” but Firewalker isn't fast enough and she draws a lighting strike! We—and everyone else still up there—panic, but she doesn't even seem to notice! She starts drawing more strikes. We're unable to watch—it's too bright—and unable to move for fear of being struck ourselves. It's hard to get off a mountain when one is pinned down like this! After what feels like a half-hour, but is probably several minutes, other hikers have had enough of this and one by one make a run for it, staying as low as possible. She starts yelling at us to go and she'll catch up. I think she's crazy and I really don't want to leave her—nor do her parents--but she insists.

Back at the Ranger station, Howl says I was taking lightning splash from Firewalker. _what?!_ Why does it seem that just when I think my life can't get any stranger, it does? Sophie checks me for electrical burns and find none, which she says is virtually impossible. Firewalker arrives a short while after we do. She confirms that I was taking splash--she's rather alarmed about it and keeps asking me if I'm alright. Sophie looks her over for burns too and finds none. We're all now concerned about going over high passes ahead of us—of which there are many—through the remainder of our time in the High Sierra. We come to a consensus that Howl will probe for electrical differential—whatever that is—and if he detects any, Firewalker and I will wait until everyone else is safely past any points of concern. Firewalker isn't happy about this, for it means about a half-kilometer separation between the two of us and the others during those times, but she reluctantly agrees.

While dinner's cooking, Sophie checks everyone for retinal and hearing damage from the lighting and readjusts Lettie's and Osric's neurochemistry—which she says she'll have to do every time we negotiate each of the passes between here and Echo Lakes north of Ebbetts Pass.

After crawling into bed, Firewalker and I just lay there wordlessly. I can tell she's quite worried about the lightning, so I just hold her and we drift off to sleep.

 

Firewalker's Log

We're up early for our ascent up Mt. Whitney. I'm feeling a little hungry, so I eat a chipmunk—I don't think anyone notices, but I do it so fast, it's very nearly raw. Curiously, it's not as disgusting as I thought it might be. Still, it's really hard to eat those things, especially that quickly, and even one that small, without getting blood all over myself—somehow I manage it. Oh, no, what am I doing? Am I turning into something...inhuman? I keep this to myself, making a mental note to discuss it with Outlaw later. Hopefully, it's something that will pass, as I don't relish the idea of developing a taste for raw meat...other than fish.

They let me take point going up the switchbacks—I've never seen so many of those things in my life! That's not really saying much, though, since I'd never even heard of them until I saw Neil's photographs. I can tell Outlaw's ogling me—he gives off a particular kind of heat when he does, which is often. While I find it a little distracting, I'd be disappointed and annoyed if it were otherwise. He keeps asking about my feet. I keep telling him I'm fine. After all those sun-cups yesterday—and the last seven hundred miles--I'm surprised he has to ask. I suppose he's just concerned about my well-being, but it's still a little irritating. The same thing seems to be happening all the way back...each husband ogling his wife and repeatedly asking her how she's doing. It's rather amusing and so adorable.

Reaching the ridgetop, we can see hikers strung out all over the place like ants. It sure is crowded up here for being in the middle of wilderness! The last little bit to the summit is _uch_ easier. It sure doesn't _look_ like the second-highest peak in North America. Neil clears that up some. The view from here is absolutely amazing! All I can see are snowy mountains in every direction! Well, it's desert to the east, but there are even some mountains in that direction, too. Sophie's able to deal with her fellow Ingarians and their altitude sickness quite handily. It sure is nice having an empathic healer in the Fellowship.

We have lunch up at the summit. There's an afternoon thunderstorm brewing and we decide we should head back soon. Suddenly there's this faint buzzing noise and Howl yells at us to get down. I hesitate and then there's a flash, accompanied by a loud CRACK and I feel kind of tingly all over. Everyone's looking at me like a codfish for some reason. There's another buzz and another flash-CRACK and more tinglies. I look down at my hand and see small electrical arcs traveling between my fingers. I have just enough time to think, 'That's odd,' when there's yet another buzz-flash-CRACK-tingle. I look over toward Outlaw, who's only a couple of meters away. I reach toward him, just as buzz-flash-CRACK and a bolt of lightning leaps from my hand and hits him! He doesn't seem to notice! Only then do I realize that I'm being struck by lightning and that some of it is bouncing off of me and hitting him! This continues for several minutes. Each time I'm struck, some of it splashes onto another part of the mountain or onto Outlaw! I'm suddenly aware that this actually kind of tickles! I yell at everyone to get out of here, although some of the others up there have already begun their retreat. I wait until I can see everyone nearly to the trail junction that will take them back down to the PCT before starting down after them. Lightning continues to strike me until I've left the ridge.

I arrive back at the Ranger station a full five minutes after the others. Sophie checks me for electrical burns—naturally, I'm fine. I'm relieved to hear that Outlaw doesn't have any either. Sophie says that's practically impossible—she's the medical expert, so I suppose I'll have to take her word for it. After much discussion, we reach a consensus about the lightning. Howl scans for electrical potential—the condition immediately preceding an electrical discharge—and then Outlaw and I have to let the others go on ahead if he finds any. I don't like it, but I reluctantly agree for safety reasons.

We all crawl into bed. Outlaw and I don't say much. I'm worried about the lightning—not for my sake or Outlaw's, but more for everyone else. I can tell Outlaw senses this. He just puts an arm around me and holds me, which makes me feel better.


	9. Sun-Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rapunzel makes her promised demonstration at the Bighorn Plateau. Against her better judgment, she also brings out the sun-blood...with nearly-disastrous consequences.

Eugene, Rapunzel and their Fellowship sat beneath what few trees grew at the southeastern edge of the Bighorn Plateau. Rapunzel's personal paparazzi hovered within conversation distance. They weren't being malicious or anything, but it was still annoying. Eugene and Rapunzel recognized half of them: Moose; Oatmeal; Cougarsbane; Salad; Frodo; Suncup; GreyJay; GeoSurfer (known for literally sliding down the trail whenever possible); Camel (somehow always managing to carry half as much water as anyone else); and Leatherneck (former U.S. Marine)—the latter three had followed the rest during the descent into the Antelope Valley. She could see the heat emanating from their brain-stems and Sophie could feel the tense anticipation coming off them like a wave. They both thought that if curiosity really could kill, all those people would have keeled over long ago. Rapunzel did her best to ignore or brush off all the variations on the “is it time yet” question.

“Are you...sure you want to do this?” said Harold.

“No, I'm not sure. But I'm going to do it anyway.”

“You don't _have_ to do it, you know,” said Liesel.

“Yes, Mama, actually I do. I promised these people I'd show them what I do. I never break my promises...ever. Did you not tell me yourself that a Princess' word is her bond?”

Liesel nodded.

“As I recall,” said Eugene, “you promised a few of them. The rest are...here by osmosis.”

“Then that's their problem,” said Rapunzel. “Besides, they're not going to simply go away. We both know it. I will not set a precedent for reneging on my word, even if no one will know about it once we return home.”

“What about their digicams?” said Neil.

“What?” said Eugene.

“He's right,” said Howl, “they'll take photos.”

“And upload them via their PocketMails to their journals, blogs, YouTube, Facebook....”

Eugene interrupted. “They what, what, what, and _what_?”

“Um...” said Howl, trying to decide how to answer the question, “...I think the point is that thanks to our technology, whatever you show us can, and probably will, be seen by millions of people within a couple of hours.”

Rapunzel's eyes went wide in alarm.

“Don't worry,” said Neil, “I can probably hack it and help you maintain your privacy.”

“Besides,” said Howl, “keeping you here in the twenty-first century would be catastrophic.”

“Haven't we already changed history by leaving the past?” said Harold.

They all looked at each other. “This is making my head hurt,” said Eugene.

“Look,” said Howl to Rapunzel, “you just...do what you're going to do and Neil and I will handle the damage-control. Would that make you feel better.”

Rapunzel cocked an eyebrow at him, looked at him for a moment, then exhaled resignedly. “It doesn't look like I have much of a choice.”

Eugene sighed. “It's still overcast, so at least we'll all have a good view.”

“If we wait too much longer,” said Neil, “no one will have time to go very far before nightfall.”

They looked at him.

“Didn't you say they'd freak out?” he continued. “If that's true, then they'll want to get as far away as possible and you'll want to rest.”

Rapunzel took a deep breath, then let it out. “Maybe they'll forget to take those photos.” She stood up and faced her crowd of admirers. “Alright, people! I believe you have a saying...be careful what you request, for you just might receive it.”

The hikers cheered and applauded. Rapunzel's companions simply looked at each other.

“No, don't cheer! You'll comprehend that soon enough. What I'm about to show you is not a trick. It's not a joke or an illusion or...what do you call it...ah, yes...Hollywood. I'd tell you to avoid trying this at home, but as not one of you is capable of doing anything even remotely close to this...except maybe for you, Howl...it would be an entirely moot point.”

With that, she raised both her hands and a sphere of flame appeared between them. It grew as she opened her arms. Turning her hands upward, she made a lifting motion and the sphere soared into the air above them. It expanded and contorted, forming an image of the Milky Way Galaxy in fire. Then it changed shape into a dragon, which separated into birds and fish. There were a few cheers.

“What did I say about cheering?” she said flatly. To emphasize her point, she contracted the fire back into a ball and shoved toward her audience, stopping it less than a meter from their now-stunned...and in some cases, alarmed...faces. She held it there for a few moments before letting it dissipate. She looked over at a fallen lodgepole pine, which burst into smokeless flame and turned quickly to ashes. Murmurs went through the crowd and a few were beginning to look scared. Then she picked up a piece of granite roughly the size of an orange. As she held it, it began to glow—first a dull red, then brighter red, moving through orange and yellow. As it entered white heat, it softened, melted, and dribbled between her fingers to fall into a misshapen mass at her feet. She held up her hand, palm outward, to show that it was unburned.

There were more murmurs and more were looking even more nervous than they had before, a couple already bordering on terrified as they began to realize what else she may be capable of doing. One looked as though she might start hyperventilating if this continued much further. “Is that all?” said another hiker.

“There's always someone,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I suppose that instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a Queen!” That last word was punctuated by an eruption of fire, which sheathed her body like a garment, flowing around it like a living thing, leaping from it and back inward like the surface of a roaring river and framing her face. He voice took on an unearthly tenor. “Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” She paused for dramatic effect, then the fire went out.

A chorus of “whoa!” and similar remarks went through the small crowd, underscored by a couple of fearful, quivery whimpers. “It's like if the Balrog of Moria had the Ring!” blurted Frodo.

“Except she's cuter,” said Eugene, inclining his head toward his wife, who giggled slightly.

Rapunzel's entourage still just looked at each other nervously.

“How'd you do that?” asked Leatherneck.

“I really don't think you want to know.”

“Yes, I do,” he said.

“It's...kind of frightening,” said Eugene, “trust me. You're better off not knowing.”

“Show us anyway,” he insisted.

“Seriously,” said Eugene, “you don't want her to do that.”

“Yes, we do!” said Camel.

Rapunzel glared at him. He, and his fellow hikers were undeterred. They continued to plead with Rapunzel to show them whatever-it-was.

Rapunzel clenched her fists. “Fine!” she shrieked. “But don't say I didn't warn you!”

She paused, turned around and took a few paces before facing them once again.

“Against my better judgment, I'm going to show you what lets me do all of this.”

People started to cheer.

“ _Stop that!_ ” Rapunzel bellowed. The crowd went silent. “It's a piece of shattered star occupying fourth, fifth and sixth dimensions of space. I'm going to pull it partly back out of its phase and into these dimensions. Keep in mind that it's actually at least ten times larger and brighter than it will appear.” Howl had been giving them all science lessons since they left Kennedy Meadows. There were still a lot of holes in her knowledge, but she felt she at least had a better grasp on the nature of the sun-blood, which wasn't really saying much anyway.

“Show it full-size!” someone called.

“You really don't want me to do that,” she said evenly.

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, if I bring it fully into the first through third dimensions of space, it will vaporize every one of you, rip this entire valley apart, blast a three-hundred-mile-wide gap through the Sierra Divide, permanently change the weather patterns and local hydrology, bore down through the batholith and set off a volcanic eruption, that's why!” she retorted irritably.

Eugene got up and walked over to her. “You're exaggerating...aren't you?”

“No, dearest, I'm not. Walter said it's getting stronger and he's right. In fact, he may have been understating things. I can feel it. Take a few photos would you? Just in case it looks different, I'd like to see.”

He nodded and reluctantly returned to his seat.

“A few of you have seen this before. The rest of you...don't freak out...much.” She turned around and began to walk away. Murmurs went through the crowd. “I'm only going over there,” she said over her shoulder. “If you're in line-of-sight, you'll see it just fine, trust me.”

“Line of sight how?” said someone.

“Just stay there,” she said with a hint of annoyance. She stopped about fifty meters out, turned around, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. For a few pregnant moments, nothing much seemed to happen. Then her body started to quiver and the ground began to shake—gently at first, then growing progressively stronger. A sharp ionic odor stung everyone's nostrils. The air around Rapunzel shimmered, the light passing through it contorting. Suddenly, a huge incandescent mass appeared where Rapunzel had been moments before, hovering just above the ground. It was generally like what Eugene and company had seen in the palace ballroom, but a few facets of its appearance had changed. The light emanating from it had swung further toward the upper end of the visual spectrum and there was now a slight blue-violet tint to it. The boil of the internal convection was more energetic, almost aggressive. The loops of solar prominence glowed more brightly and jumped faster and farther. The dark sunspots were black as outer darkness and one felt like one was falling into them. The blue lightning arced over the surface faster than it had before, crackled menacingly and seemed thicker, almost tendril-like. The whole thing vibrated with a deep, growling sound.

Yelps and curses went through the crowd. Salad fainted. Camel vomited. Leatherneck lost all control of his bodily functions. Suddenly, the sun-blood pulsed with a purplish light and the flares lanced outward. One of them set a tree on fire. Another began vaporizing the snow that lay roundabout. A third shot into the sky and seemed to literally punch a hole through the cloud. Several more licked at the valley floor, scorching the sparse vegetation and vaporizing more of the surface water.

The blue lightning arced off its surface. One struck a tree, instantly turning all its water to steam, which in turn reduced the tree into several hundred pounds of dangerously-flying sawdust and wood chips. Another and another struck rocks, either causing them to explode into even more dangerously-flying shards or simply reducing them to glassy lumps. More struck more trees, reducing them to tinder.  
A quickly-expanding ring of rising mist radiated outward, indicating that it was boiling the water beneath the ground and probably starting to fuse the soil. The vibrations increased and fissures opened in the rock under and around it, each with loud 'CRACK' and a release of steam jets. The ground around it glowed, first red, then orange, then dull yellow. The sun-blood was barely in these dimensions and already it was beginning to, as Rapunzel had put it, rip the valley apart.

Then the form contorted and, as quickly as it had appeared, vanished. The vibrations stopped and the glow in the ground around it rapidly faded. Rapunzel stood there breathing heavily, her hair now a vivid, almost violent, orange-red that seemed to shimmer like it had itself manifested into fire.

Eugene rushed over to her. “Are you alright? That looked like it took a lot more out of you than it did the last time.” He lifted her chin and suppressed a gasp. “Your...eyes.”  
She looked at him and cocked her head. “What about them?”

“They were...red a moment ago.”

“They were?”

He nodded. “They're back to that gorgeous blue-green I like so much now, though...but with red streaks.”

She smiled at him. “Ooph!” she said as she tried to move. She looked down, saw that her feet were encased in ground that had melted and then re-solidified, and rolled her eyes. “Bother! You may want to move back a little.” Eugene complied. She re-melted the rock around her feet, lifted each foot out of the now-white-hot muck and shook it off as though it were room-temperature mud. Then she and Eugene returned, hand-in-hand, to the others, all of whom looked at her with eyes as big as saucers, jaws hanging open enough to appear dislocated. “Told ya!” she said cheerily.

A few of the hikers were already trying to surreptitiously slink away.

“Son of a motherless goat!” exclaimed Cougarsbane.

“You're a goddess!” exclaimed another.

“That's what I keep telling her,” said Eugene.

Rapunzel rolled her eyes. “Oh, Eugene. I'm not a goddess. Although I'm flattered that you think so.” She leaned up and kissed him.

“Damn!” said another. “You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, you know that?”

“I don't know, man. I'd be scared s**tless being married to her.”

“F**k that! I'm scared s**tless now and I don't even know her name!”

“Dude, can I get some of that?” said another.

“Um...no. Even if I were to try, which I won't, it would obliterate you.”

“So why weren't you...obliterated?”

“It's complicated.”

“You keep saying that,” said Oatmeal.

“Yes, I do and it is. You'll just have to trust me.”

“Wow!” said Erik the Black, who'd rolled up wordlessly in the midst of her display and was gnawing on a piece of jerky. “Dinner _and_ a show...keen!”

“Remind me to avoid raiding her or her people,” said Switchback the Trail Pirate, who'd arrived with Erik.

“Did you...see all that?” asked GreyJay.

“Aye,” said Switchback.

“And you're not freaked out?”

“We're veteran through-hikers,” said Erik. “We've seen it all.” He paused. “Okay, _now_ we've seen it all,” he added.

“Alright, people,” said Eugene. “You've seen what she has to show you. If you have nightmares, don't say we didn't warn you. If you want to continue hiking with us, I'll be telling 'Beowulf' in installments. I might even do it in Anglo-Saxon as well as in English. If you don't, there's the trail,” he pointed at the tread snaking off to the north and just tangential to the wreckage caused by the sun-blood. “We'll stay here for a bit, then maybe see about making a couple more miles before nightfall.”

More murmurs went through the hikers. Salad, Camel and Leatherneck had recovered. Fully half those assembled opted to go on their way, giving Rapunzel a wide berth. When they had retreated out of earshot, she and Eugene sad down with their people. The other hikers sat down in silence, unsure what to say or to whom to say it. Erik and Switchback walked over to the Fitzherberts.

“You know,” said Switchback, “there be room on the ship. There could be glory and plunder in store for one such as yerself,” he said, playing up the whole pirate persona.

They chuckled. “No, thank-you,” she said politely. “While I appreciate the invitation, I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Besides, I have glory and reward of my own awaiting beyond the horizon and I must pursue it in my own way.”

“Well spoken, milady,” he said with a bow.

“I don't suppose we could persuade you to...oh, I don't know...alter the weather in Washington?” said Erik.

“Wouldn't that be cheating?” she said.

Erik laughed. “Yeah, I suppose it would.” He tipped his black hat, turned to go, then paused. “Um...you do know you're technically required to use bear boxes...just sayin'.”

Rapunzel raised a eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who would be concerned about bears?”

“Only on the surface,” said Switchback nonchalantly.

“Nothing scares you...veteran through-hiker types, does it?” said Eugene. It was more a statement than a question.

“Mama bears?” said Erik.

They all laughed.

“Geologists are going to go nuts with those fissures you created over there. But, hey, hike your own hike.” At that, he tipped his hat again and they turned and trundled on up the trail.

“Can you do that?” asked Eugene when they'd gone, “Change the weather, I mean?”

“I don't know,” she said pensively. “Maybe if I warm the atmosphere enough...” she trailed off.

“Altering the weather is a lot more complicated than just warming things up here and there,” said Howl. “Besides, you're probably right. It would be cheating and would probably be regarded by many as ruining the purity of the hike.”

Lettie looked at Rapunzel with a pained expression. “That...sun-blood as you call it...that is...part of my sun?”

“Yes, Lettie,” she said with a touch of regret in her voice. “I'm afraid it is. It's all that's left of your world...I'm sorry.”

Lettie started to choke up a little.

“It is alright,” said Osric, putting a comforting arm around his wife. “It was not your fault. This is our world now.”

“Speaking of dinner and a show,” said Eugene, changing the subject, “maybe we could eat and I'll tell the first bit of 'Beowulf.'” Everyone seemed like that idea, so they made it so.

*****

“What a day!” said Rapunzel after she and Eugene had gone to bed. “We made half as many miles as we did yesterday and most of it was more or less flat compared to the climb up Whitney, but doing that interphasic stuff...that's _hard!_ ”

“I'd like to say I can relate, but...no, I pretty much have no idea what that's like.” After a few moments of silence, he continued. “Just so you know, it looked pretty much the same as it did before, only much more energetic...and with a slight purplish hue.”

“I still feel kind of tense.”

“I'm not empathic, or heat-sensitive or anything and even I can see that. I don't suppose there's anything I can do, is there?”

“Release me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She flipped over him, straddling his hips. “Release me,” she repeated. “I need you to make me feel like a woman...not like a goddess or a...whatever...a woman. And to answer the question I just know you're about to ask, I seriously doubt anyone out there is going to be any more freaked out than they already are,” she added. She rested her forehead against his. “Make...me...glow.”

Eugene said nothing. Instead, he kissed his wife tenderly and then proceeded to make sweet, gentle love to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eric the Black...who, as his trail name implies, wears all black...publishes the Pacific Crest Trail Atlas (www.pctatlas.com) and maintains an ultralight hiking blog.
> 
> Switchback the Trail Pirate is a veteran hiker. I'm not really sure what he does, other than hike A LOT, share a lot of his accumulated trail knowledge, and be the plucky comic relief on the PCT-L email list.


	10. High Sierra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fellowship makes their way through the High Sierra, beginning with the intimidating ascent over Forrester Pass. Rapunzel implements an unusual solution to the ford of Evolution Creek. Her caloric demands lead to an initially disturbing change in her dietary habits.

They stood on the floor of a broad, high valley gazing at the sheer icy wall of Forrester Pass, still a mile ahead.

“We go over _that?!_ ” said Lettie in horror.

“It doesn't look that bad,” said Eugene hopefully.

“Yes it does,” said Liesel.

“He's right,” said Neil reassuringly. “It's not as bad as it looks. It's really not too much worse than Whitney.”

“Not too much worse?” shrieked Lettie, barely keeping from lapsing into her native tongue. “That thing nearly killed us! It would have, if not for Sophie!”

“ _I am not going anywhere, sister,_ ” said Sophie calmly and in Ingarian. “ _And I adjusted our chemistry this morning, remember? You will be fine._ ”

“Um,” said Cougarsbane from behind them, “are we going to just stand here talking about climbing that, or are we actually going to go over there and do it...some time this week?”

“You know,” said Salad, “we could just power on ahead.”

“Dude,” said Oatmeal, “you don't power up Forrester Pass. You take it slow, one step at a time. Rushing it will just get you hurt or killed.”

“K-k-k-killed?” squeaked Lettie.

“You're here, aren't you?” said Howl.

“What?”

“ _I think he means that you are alive after...you know,_ ” said Osric to her in Ingarian, putting an arm around his wife, “ _so you have already beaten the odds._ ”

“We all go home, or nobody goes home,” said Harold bluntly.

“Harold,” said Liesel quietly, “you're not helping.”

“Look,” said Rapunzel a bit impatiently, “that is our road.” She pointed at the mountain looming above them. “We do it exactly like we've been doing it since we started. We take a step. We take another step. We take another one after that. Lather, rinse, repeat. Before you know it, we're there!” She ended with a cheerful tone.

“I like your approach,” said Eugene. “Shall we?” he said motioning northward.

*****

“See?” said Rapunzel, breathing heavily as she reached the summit of the pass. “There's nothing to it!”

“I don't know about that,” panted Eugene, “but I do like your optimism.

“A week ago, I never even _heard_ of...what do you call it...postholing,” gasped Lettie. “Now I think I will be dreaming about it for months!”

“And suncups!” added Osric.

They all spread out about the pass for a well-deserved break. Rapunzel melted some snow from around a few rocks so more people could have dry seats. Everyone promptly dug into their bear cans for a mid-morning snack, even though it was pretty much about time for Elevenses, as Frodo put it. After a few minutes, conversation resumed.

“So, you two seem to be the only ones not wearing sunglasses,” said Camel, indicating Eugene and Rapunzel.

Rapunzel raised an eyebrow in an unspoken, 'You really have to ask me that?'

“Oh. Right. And I suppose you don't wear sunscreen either, do you?” It was more of a statement.

She shook her head.

“What about you?” he asked Eugene.

Eugene and Rapunzel looked at each other and then back at Camel.

“Wait...no! Not you too. I thought that glow in your tent last night looked odd.”

Others snickered and Eugene and Rapunzel blushed. Sophie and Howl shared a meaningful glance and they, too, blushed.

“And here I was, thinking this was just going to be a small, quiet, family affair,” said Harold.

Liesel tittered.

“I am glad there is no more lightning,” said Osric.

“Wait a couple more hours and there might be,” said Neil.

“We'd better move, then,” said Eugene.

“Why?” said Oatmeal.

“Um...I attract lightning,” said Rapunzel.

“Is there anything you _don't_ do?”

“Uh...pay taxes?”

Everyone chuckled, especially her family, who of course, knew that to be true.

“I wonder what Madrona Gothel would think if she could see you here,” said Eugene pensively.

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Rapunzel with a giggle. “I think 'horrified' would be a vast understatement.”

They quickly finished lunch and began their northward descent, prodded by Howl who was sensing some early electrical build-up. Neil took point, followed by Eugene and Rapunzel, then all the others according to ability or inclination.

*****

The weather was crisp and clear as they crested Glenn Pass. After a break for second breakfast, they started down the north side. Suddenly, Rapunzel slipped and started sliding, quickly accelerating toward the gaping maw of bare rock below them.

“Rapunzel!” yelled Eugene.

“Self-arrest! Self-arrest!” yelled Howl.

An inverted dome of flame erupted beneath her feet. Snow, ice and rock screeched and exploded as she hurtled downward, sending steam and debris flying at right angles to her descent. For a few moments, she looked like a spacecraft on reentry. After a few more tense moments, she came to a stop and lay there motionless.

“Well,” said Howl, “that's not quite what I had in mind, but it seems to have been effective.”

“I'm going down there,” said Eugene as he began to remove his pack.

“Are you nuts?” said Neil. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“That's my wife down there and she might be hurt. This is not negotiable.”

“Then I'm going with you,” said Howl, removing his own pack.

“What?” said Sophie.

“He may need help.”

Harold and Liesel just stood there tensely, gripping each other.

“What about them?” said Osric, indicating the other hikers.

“Anyone who wants to continue,” said Eugene, “I suppose you know where the trail goes. Besides, I think we pretty much have it all covered.”

Most of the others, except Frodo, Oatmeal, Salad, GreyJay, Suncup and Cougarsbane, decided to continue. They crept by, being careful not to do anything that might send them sliding down there themselves, and marched onward. Meanwhile, Eugene and Howl had ice-axed their way down to Rapunzel, each on opposite sides of her descent swath. It took all of Eugene's will to restrain himself from simply glissading down to her. They heard a groan and saw a little movement just before they reached her. She was down in a two-meter-deep hole melted into the ice, much like a low-angle meteorite impact. The sides were steep and the bottom was littered with bits of rock, some of them rather large, some semi-glassy from partial melting It all appeared to have been shattered by steam explosions. Mist rose off of everything.

“I'll go in, you stay here to pull us out,” said Eugene and he jumped in before Howl could protest.

“Honey! Honey!” he said as he patted her cheeks. She regained consciousness and her eyes fluttered open. “Don't move."

“Ow,” she groaned.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“It's hard to tell.”

“I need you to tell me anyway. It's the only way to keep from injuring you any further.”

She nodded and then slowly closed her eyes again.

“What's she doing?” Howl asked nervously.

She opened one eye and peered at him. “Running a diagnostic? Like you taught me?” Then she closed the eye again. Then, one by one, she began to move her limbs. Both her legs seemed to be okay and her left arm, but she yelped when she tried to move the right. “Just as I thought. It seems to be dislocated.”

Eugene slowly helped her out of her pack, trying very hard not to move the arm, then handed it up to Howl. He handed it to Osric, who had inched down after them, who then climbed back up with it.

“Honey, I'm going to pop your shoulder back into its socket. It's going to hurt, and I apologize in advance.”

“Have you done this before?” she demanded, gritting her teeth against the pain.

“Yes. Trust me, it's not much fun. But I have to do it. Alright?”

She nodded. He placed one hand on her collarbone and the other at the upper end of her radius. “On three. One, two,” he roughly shoved her arm upward and inward. She screamed, then panted heavily, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Honey? Look at me, honey,” said Eugene. She did so, clearly fighting the pain. “I'm going to lift you up to Howl, then I'm going to crawl out and together we're going to climb back up to the trail.”

She nodded again, then glared at him. “You said on three,” she growled.

“Sorry,” he said, “but you'd have tensed up if I'd done it on three. The joint goes back into place much better if the muscles and tendons around it are relaxed. I'll do penance later.” He lifted her up by her hips and Howl grabbed her about the upper torso. Eugene ice-axed out of the hole and together he and Howl carried Rapunzel back up to the others and sat her down with her back to the slope. Sophie came over while the others looked on.

“First I must run my own...diagnostic,” said Sophie. She placed a hand on Rapunzel's forehead and closed her eyes for a few moments. “You have a mild concussion first of all. I will repair that first.” She closed her eyes for a few more moments. “Now I will work on your shoulder.” She moved her hands to that point and closed her eyes again. A few minutes later, she opened them again. “All I really had to do was nudge things in the right direction...you will do the rest on your own. You have some other scrapes, bumps and so forth, but you will recover. It is a good thing you are a...sun-bearer. Otherwise, you would certainly need to seek medical attention. Just as fortunately, you have me. But I strongly recommend you take it easy for at least the rest of the day.”

They all got back up, donned their packs—Eugene carrying both his and his wife's, which quickly proved to be awkward—and continued on their way.

*****

“No, no,” said Rapunzel dismissively, “I'll be fine. You all go on. Someone has to make sure no one steals our food, right?”

Everyone looked at everyone else.

“Well,” said Eugene, “if you're sure...I suppose.” He leaned down and kissed his wife.

Then they all turned and walked out of sight to get water.

As soon as they were out of sight, Rapunzel dashed over to a rock behind which lay the corpse of a marmot she'd killed minutes earlier. She knelt down and looked at it for a minute. Then she sighed and looked up toward the sky.

“I don't believe I'm even contemplating this,” she said softly to no-one in particular.

She pulled a small knife from its sheath, picked up the animal, paused, and sighed again. Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. She closed her eyes, slit the creature's throat and quickly pressed the wound to her mouth. She grimaced as the blood first flowed into her mouth. Then she relaxed...it was disgusting, yet not entirely unpleasant. There was a sort of salty, metallic taste, but it otherwise reminded her of blutwurst, but in liquid form.

When it seemed evident that no more blood was forthcoming, she pulled back and took a deep breath. She felt something wet, probably blood, all over her mouth and chin. That really wasn't that bad, she mused. In fact, the idea of it was much worse and she found this to be curious. She gazed pensively at the animal's abdomen, then laid it on the ground and slit its belly.

She reached inside with both hands and pulled out its entrails, which made a disgusting splurching sound. She picked up a dark, nearly-shapeless organ, probably the liver, and held it up to her face. It occurred to her that this was what went into sausages. She peered at it quizzically, then took a bite. It was slimy...yet satisfying. She chewed, took another bite, then abruptly froze.

The images of the zombies in the Palace leapt into her mind. _No!_ she said to herself, _I am NOT one of those!_ She continued chewing, then pulled out what she guessed was a kidney.

She was suddenly aware of the others returning from their water run.

“Don't freak out!” she said without turning around.

“Why would we freak out?” said Eugene.

“Just don't, alright?”

He walked up to her and then she looked over her shoulder. His jaw dropped. Her face was smeared with blood. “Um...kidney?” she said, thrusting a small lump of what he presumed was the organ in question toward him.

“Only if you cook it.”

Salad turned aside and abruptly emptied her stomach all over the granite next to the trail.

Harold and Liesel both gasped in horror. “Elsa Syele Agnes Clare, that's disgusting!” declared Liesel.

“Sorry,” said Rapunzel with an apologetic shrug, “I'm getting hungry!”

“What _is_ that?” said Howl.

“Never mind,” said Sophie, “what _was_ it?”

“A marmot,” said Rapunzel. “It's quite tasty.” She took a bite out of a leg. “But a little tough,” she added through clenched teeth.

“Um...wouldn't it have been easier to eat if you'd cooked it first?” said Eugene.

“I'm too hungry,” she said, turning to slurp at the kidney.

“Um,” said Howl to Eugene, “doesn't it bother you in the least that your beloved is sitting there tearing into a raw, freshly-dead animal like a...zombie?”

Rapunzel whirled around and glared at Howl. “Don't!” she said sternly, jabbing the other kidney at him. She then looked down at it and closed her hand around it. It began to steam and a couple of minutes later she opened it again to reveal a now fully-cooked organ. She again offered it to Eugene. He eyed it suspiciously. “It's tasty...honest.”

He took it in thumb and forefinger. The others watched in a lesser state of shock as he took a bite, chewing gingerly.

“Not bad,” he said. Then he stopped and looked back at his wife. “Are you sure these things don't carry diseases?”

“Don't worry, you're safe.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You're immune,” she added.

He peered at the partially-eaten kidney in his hand. “To what?”

“Everything.”

“How do you know?”

“Sun-tears? I'm immune and if I'm immune, you're immune. I really have no idea what these animals carry, but it doesn't matter. As long as it isn't Solanum, we're fine. So just shut up and eat.” She turned back to the marmot and continued to munch.

“Solanum doesn't exist,” said Cougarsbane.

Rapunzel looked up and glared at him. “I assure you it does. I watched it kill several of my friends. Do not task me.” She went back to her meal. After a few minutes, she looked back over her shoulder to her companions who were simply standing there staring at her. “Must you?” Wordless murmurs and mutters went through them, they all turned around and she went back to eating.

“To answer your question, Howl,” said Eugene, “after watching her tear into a live fish...” he shrugged. “Well, I'm learning to smile, nod, and say, 'yes, Dear.'”

“Good boy!” said Rapunzel without turning around. Everyone chuckled a little.

Eugene rolled his eyes. “It's a good thing you're cute,” he said to his wife.

“You know it,” she said cheerily.

“But does it bother you?” Howl repeated.

“A little,” Eugene admitted. “But I'm getting used to initially disturbing things happening to me that then turn out to be not-quite-so-disturbing.”

“Well, it bothers _me!_ ” said Liesel. They could tell by the look on Harold's face that it bothered him too, though he said nothing. “Princesses aren't supposed to eat raw meat,” she added.

After another fifteen minutes or so, Rapunzel had finished eating and incinerated the remains of the carcass so it wouldn't stink later. Then she walked over to Eugene.

“Aren't you going to...” he was cut off when Rapunzel abruptly grabbed him, pulled him down and planted a wet, juicy, bloody kiss right on his mouth. He was initially repulsed, but almost immediately got over it and instinctively leaned into it. Salad turned aside and retched again, making a comment about how gross that was.

After a few moments, Rapunzel released him, grinning from ear to ear. “I guess not. And you got blood all over me, didn't you?” She grinned again and oscillated a couple of times. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, but if I have to be all bloody, then you do, too.” She feigned a hurt expression. “No. Fair's fair. If I have to clean off in the conventional way at the next stream, then so do you.” She consented and they all set off again.

*****

“Great mother of pearl!” said Cougarsbane.

“Grand Coulee Dam!” said Howl.

“Wow, it's cold out there!” exclaimed Eugene.

“It is?” said Rapunzel.

One by one, they streamed through the door of Muir Hut into its gloomy interior. A freak snow storm had descended upon them during their ascent to Muir Pass. It had reduced everything to white-out conditions and they were barely able to see enough to navigate to the shelter. They all piled in on each other's heels, removed their packs and sat down around the perimeter. It was rather cramped. Rapunzel kindled a small ball of fire and set it hovering three meters above the floor. It cast enough light for everyone to see clearly and slowly warmed the air in the small room.

“You know,” said Cougarsbane to Rapunzel, “there are times I envy you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Suncup, “I mean, you're not sensitive to heat or cold and you can do all that cool stuff. It still scares the s**t out of me, though, don't get me wrong.”

“There's a trade-off, you know.”

“Like what?” said Oatmeal.

“Like eating raw meat?” said Salad. “Yuck!”

“Seriously? Remember Bighorn?” They nodded. “ _That's_ the trade-off. I always feel it.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do!” she said irritably. “Do you have any idea how much mass it has?”

“I don't know,” said GreyJay, “a few thousand pounds?”

“That's weight,” she said as if it were perfectly obvious. “Try several hundred _million_ kilograms! If just one tenth of it existed in just one of the three spacial dimensions we normally occupy, it would instantly crush me like a grape.”

“Then why didn't it crush you when you showed it to us?”

“Because it wasn't fully in our phase. Most of what you saw was its energy hemorrhaging into our dimensions. It's complicated.”

“Sure it is,” said Oatmeal incredulously.

“Actually,” said Howl, “she's right. Interphasic physics is extremely complex. Manipulating it is even more so. You know those things we call the laws of physics?”

“Yeah.”

“They're more like suggestions.”

“I see.”

Just then another two hikers burst through the door from outside.

“Geez, it's cold out there!” said one.

“Ah, crap,” said another upon seeing Rapunzel. “It's her!”

The other hiker followed the first one's gaze and then looked back at his companion. “ _That's_ 'Little Miss Fusion Bomb?'”

“That's ' _missus_ Fusion Bomb,'” said Rapunzel crossly. “And it's 'Firewalker.'”

“She doesn't _look_ dangerous.”

“Don't let that fool you. She'll bring down the mountain if you don't watch it.”

“Isn't that Saruman's purview?” said Eugene. That brought a round of chuckles from those familiar with “Lord of the Rings.”

One of the newly-arrived hikers glanced up at the flame hovering over their heads and winced.

“Don't mind that,” said Eugene absently between bites of granola bar.

The other hiker looked at Eugene, back up at the fireball, then at Rapunzel and cocked en eyebrow. She just shrugged and took a bite of chocolate macadamia nut, followed by a draught of olive oil. The rest of them went back to their food.

After a few moments, Oatmeal looked up. “Well? Don't just stand there, pull up a...floor,” he said.

They looked at each other, then took off their packs and rain shells, sat down and dug into their own food. After a few more minutes, conversation began to flow again, this time in the direction of all things generally related to PCT hiking. Suddenly, Sophie's eyes locked onto the doorway and widened. One by one, the rest did the same. Everybody froze, some with food halfway to or halfway in their mouths.

“Kitty!” squealed Rapunzel.

There, standing in the door to the shelter, was a large cougar, its shoulders even with the door jamb. It scanned the room, its eyes fixing on one face for a moment and then moving on to the next, its nose twitching.

“Stay calm,” said Eugene quietly, “they can probably smell fear.”

The cat's gaze swung abruptly toward Eugene, who held a piece of venison jerky halfway to his mouth. Its nostrils flared.

“And food,” muttered Oatmeal.

It looked at Oatmeal, then back at Eugene. A low growl started deep in the cat's throat, barely audible at first, that made everyone's hair stand up on end. It lowered itself slightly, laid its ears flat, rocked back and abruptly launched itself with a yowl directly at Eugene. It hurtled across the room in under two seconds and slammed into his chest, pinning him to the wall and knocking his head against the rock. Instead of tearing into his throat, or clawing at him, it simply went limp.

Rapunzel leapt up, pivoted around, grabbed the cat's scruff in both hands, hauled it off of Eugene with visible effort and dropped it onto the middle of the floor. Then she whirled back around, dropped to her knees in front of her husband and grabbed his hand in both of hers. “Eugene!?” He was slumped sideways, eyes rolled back into his head and twitching. Sophie was already there standing over him, her hand on his forehead, her own eyes closed in concentration.

“He has a concussion, three sprung ribs, two broken ones, a cracked sternum and some internal injuries,” she said gravely.

Rapunzel looked from Eugene to Sophie to Eugene and back in shock and horror. “He'll recover, right?”

“With help, yes. But that cat weighs two hundred pounds and all of it slammed into his chest!”

Rapunzel made a weak eeping sound.

“Dude,” said Cougarsbane, “he looks like he needs Life-Flight!”

One of the other hikers dove into their pack and brought out a SPOT. “Covered!” he said, pushing a button to turn it on.

“What's that?” said Harold.

“It'll summon Search and Rescue to take him to a hospital.”

“No need,” said Howl. “You can put that away.”

“What? But he'll die!”

“No he won't.”

“What?” repeated the hiker. “But he had a two hundred pound weight slam into him!”

“Sophie's an excellent field medic,” said Howl.

The hiker raised an eyebrow. “Where's her med kit?”

“Med kit?” said Sophie. “What is that?”

The hiker frowned. “Um....”

“She's her own med kit,” said Howl.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I need you all to be quiet so I can...concentrate!” snapped Sophie.

“But....”

“Shhh!” hissed Sophie. She closed her eyes and started to mutter under her breath. Then after a moment, she spoke to her sister in their own language. “ _Lettie, would you please dig my handkerchief out of my pack, soak it in water and clean the blood off the back of his head?_ ”

Lettie swallowed, but complied. Rapunzel made another soft “eep.” Sophie closed her eyes again and went back to muttering.

They all sat there in silence for the next twenty minutes, just watching Sophie move her hands from one part of Eugene to another, eyes closed, muttering under her breath the whole time. At last, Sophie backed away and Eugene opened his eyes and groaned.

“Eugene!” squealed Rapunzel as she threw her arms around him.

“Ow!” croaked Eugene. “That really hurt.”

“I'm sorry,” she said apologetically, “did I....”

“No, you feel good. But that,” he nodded at the cougar on the floor and winced. He put a hand up to the back of his head and winced again. “That's ten times worse than your cousin and one tenth his size...mounted and in armor anyway.”

“Should he even be conscious?” said one of the hikers.

Rapunzel turned around and looked at the cougar. “Bad kitty!” she said pointing at it. “Nobody attacks my husband but me!” That brought a few chuckles.

“He needs,” began Sophie. Then she turned to Howl and said something to him in Ingarian.

Howl turned to Rapunzel. “He needs some protein, a whole collection of amino acids and an assortment of minerals. I don't think he's going to get it all from jerky and those protein energy bars we've been eating.”

Sophie looked at Eugene. “You need organ meat.”

“Where am I going to get...” his eyes widened as it dawned on him. “Oh, no,” he said, looking at the dead cougar on the floor in front of him. “You are _not_ thinking what I think you're thinking.” Then he coughed.

Rapunzel dug a small kettle out of Eugene's pack, then stepped over to her father's. “Do you mind if I borrow yours, too?”

Harold hesitated. “Whatever you're planning to do, just make sure you clean it out when you're done.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then dug the pot out of his pack. “Howl, what do you think the volume of that is?” she gestured toward the cat.

“Um....”

Rapunzel interrupted him. “I need you and...you,” she nodded at Osric, “to hold this up for me.”

Howl and Osric looked at each other, then stepped over to the cat and picked it up between them.

“Uh...head down?” she said. They re-oriented the cat as requested. She knelt down, drew a knife and made a deft slit across its throat. She caught the fountain of blood in the two kettles.

“Hurry up,” said Howl, “it's heavy!”

After a few minutes, the flow slowed and then stopped. “Thank-you, gentlemen. That will do.” They lowered it onto the floor and sat down again. She picked up the kettles, both of which were mostly full of cougar blood, stepped over to Eugene and held one up to him.

“What...oh, no,” he said. “I am _not_ drinking that!”

“But it's still warm!” she teased. Then she took a sip from one of them and made a yummy sound. “See? It's actually quite good.”

“That's gross,” he said.

“And blutwurst isn't?”

“Blutwurst is cooked,” he countered.

“And this is fresh!” she retorted. “In fact, it doesn't come any fresher. Now hurry up and drink it before it gets cold!”

Eugene looked plaintively at his in-laws. They just shook their heads, apparently willing to let the two of them handle this themselves.

He hesitantly took the proffered pot, raised it to his mouth and paused. Everyone else watched in much the same way they might a train wreck. “Bottoms up!” said Rapunzel perkily and took a good draught. Eugene followed suit, his initial grimace replaced by an expression of surprise.

“You're right. That's not bad.” They finished their pots of blood.

“Okay,” said Salad, “I think that's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen...after that marmot.”

“Oh, it gets better,” said Rapunzel wryly.

Rapunzel turned, picked up the knife, knelt down beside the cat, and deftly slit its belly. Blood, guts and fluids spilled out onto the floor, followed by a variety of expressions from everyone on how gross it was. She pulled out a dark, irregularly-shaped organ that flopped around like aspic as she lifted it. “Liver?” she asked, looking to Sophie for confirmation of its identification.

“Looks like it, yes. Oh, and it is best if you do not cook it.”

“Wait,” said Eugene, “first you get me to drink still-warm blood from a _cat_ , then you want me to eat its guts _raw?!_ ”

“Oh, don't be such a baby,” said Rapunzel. “What do you think goes into sausages?”

He furrowed his brow pensively.

“She does have a point,” said Howl. He and his wife exchanged knowing glances.

Rapunzel sliced a small piece off the liver and popped it into her own mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “See? It's better than marmot,” she said at last, a note of pleasant surprise in her voice. “I think you'll find it more than palatable,” she added to Eugene. At that, she sliced a larger chunk off of it and handed it to him. He took it in thumb and forefinger, peering at it suspiciously. “Eugene? Just eat it.” He popped it into his mouth, winced briefly, then chewed.

“It's...chewy...and slimy...yet satisfying.”

“Yes, yes it is,” she said, slicing another piece for herself and then one for him. “Anyone else want any?” A chorus of negatives went around the room and she shrugged. “Your loss.” She and Eugene consumed the remainder of the organ. They repeated this with the spleen and kidneys. Salad, who'd been turning progressively greener and greener, finally got up and rushed outside. They heard retching noises over the wind. After a few minutes, she stumbled back inside without a word.

“Sorry,” said Rapunzel with a shrug.

Harold leaned over to Liesel. “You know,” he said quietly, with not-so-subtle introspection, “I still remember when I first held her in my arms, all giggling and wriggly, and you said she was our perfect angel.”

Liesel patted him reassuringly on the arm. “She _is_ our perfect angel, dear. She just has...certain eccentricities.”

“Keeping a pet chameleon is an eccentricity. Actively pursuing extraneous exercise is an eccentricity. Going barefoot all the time is an eccentricity. This...” he motioned at his daughter and son-in-law consuming raw organ meat in front of them, “...well, I'm sure I don't know what this is.” Then he turned toward Rapunzel. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

Rapunzel rolled her eyes. “Daddy, what _are_ we going to do with you?”

“But...”

“Look,” she said in barely-contained exasperation, “I have a body temperature of a hundred and twelve. Do you have _any_ idea what that does to my metabolism?”

Harold shook his head.

“Remember how much I ate after my homecoming and then compare that to how much I've been eating after my return from Ingary. Now add all this walking to that. I'm hungry _all the time!_ Why do you think I've been drinking olive oil?”

“And the squirrels,” added Sophie.

“I was kind of hoping no one noticed, but, yes, those, too. When you're this hungry, you really only care that it's edible. As a sun-bearer, I don't even have to worry about whatever diseases it might be carrying. It also helps that I grew up without social constraints giving me preconceived ideas about what I should or shouldn't be eating. That includes this,” she held up her blood-covered hands. “I'm a Firewalker, Daddy. That means I'm on a see-food diet...I see food and I eat it. Now if you don't mind....” She turned and reached deep into the cougar's cavity and up under its ribcage.

After a few moments, she reached in with the other arm and the knife and made several short, jerky, indeterminate motions. “And, yes, the next time we see another marmot, I'm eating that, too! Any and all objections will be noted in my log.” After a couple of minutes, she drew them back out, now covered up the the elbows in blood and peritoneal fluid and holding the cat's heart, which she held out toward Eugene. He grimaced.

“Your heart is in my hand,” she said to him, a light teasing tone in her voice. Everyone groaned. She stepped over to him and held the organ up to his face. “Bottoms up?”

He shrugged, took the proffered heart and sucked some of the blood out of it, then handed it back to his wife, who did the same. Then she cut it up and they shared it.

“Now that wasn't so bad, was it?”

He cocked an ignominious eyebrow.

She turned back to the cougar. “Steaks next?”

“Dibs on the pelt!” said one of the hikers.

“Just what are you going to do with it?” said another. “How are you going to tan it? How much does it weigh? What are you going to say to the Ranger?”

“Oh, so you're a 'the bear can's always half-empty' person, eh?”

“He has a good point,” said Howl. “But it _would_ be a shame to waste that.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, that's a perfectly good cougar pelt... _without_ a bullet hole, I might add. How'd you do that, by the way?” he said the last to Rapunzel.

“You don't want to know,” she said, as she cut the hide from the rest of the body. 

“I told you, man, she's a human fusion bomb.”

“I am not a bomb, fusion or otherwise,” said Rapunzel, unsure what fusion was beyond the stellar context. “Bombs explode. I only _appear_ to explode. There's a difference.”

They looked at each other.

“You know, I could use a little help here,” she said after a few minutes.

Out came a few knives and a few people knelt down and helped her skin the cougar. Putting the pelt carefully against the wall, they proceeded to cut the meat into small, easily-cooked pieces. Then out came stoves and pots and soon there were a half-dozen kettles boiling cougar meat over alcohol, Esbit and canister stoves. Rapunzel herself cooked pieces as they came off the cat and distributed them one by one to her own party. Most of them ate their first bites with a bit of trepidation. When all the meat had been consumed down to the bone, Howl and Osric hauled what remained outside and dropped it a couple dozen meters away from the shelter.

By now, it was growing dark and the storm was still raging outside. While they weren't technically supposed to camp inside Muir Hut, none of them was willing to venture back outside and it was highly unlikely anyone in official capacity was poised ready to issue fines and citations for doing so. By contrast, it was nearly sweltering inside, thanks to Rapunzel's fireball, which still hovered overhead, and all of their collective body heat. Rapunzel burned up the leftover mess on the floor and everyone stretched out as best as they could. She extinguished her fireball and one by one, they all fell asleep.

*****

Morning came earlier than they felt it should. One by one, they awakened and glanced outside. The storm had passed, but the sky was still cloudy, making solar navigation impossible. Enough snow had fallen to obscure footprints and none of them could really tell which way was north. Low clouds hid the landscape in a grey fog. They all stood outside, a few meters from the hut, fully geared up and ready to go, but not at all sure in which direction to do it. Eugene brought out his compass and peered at it.

“That's north?” he said quizzically. “I'd have sworn it was that direction.” He gestured off to his right. He walked a few meters away and the needle turned. He frowned at it, turned ninety degrees, walked a few more meters and frowned again.

“What's wrong?” asked Neil.

“I don't think this points north.”

“What do you mean it doesn't point north?” said Harold.

“Well...it keeps pointing at...wait a minute.” He walked over toward Rapunzel, stopped a couple of meters from her, and then walked all the way around her. “It keeps pointing at _you_ ,” he said to her.

“Me? Why does it point at me?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe it points at the thing you want most in this world,” said Howl helpfully.

They all chuckled. Others brought out their own compasses. They all pointed directly at Rapunzel. “Oh, dear,” said Liesel.

“It must be her EM field,” said Howl.

“What?” said Harold.

“I generate an electromagnetic field,” Rapunzel explained. “It interferes with electronics, it's probably why I attract lightning, and I guess it also gives erroneous compass readings.”

“How are we supposed to find north, then?” said Cougarsbane.

They looked at Neil. “Well, I _think_ it's that way,” he motioned in what he thought was north, “but it's been a year since I was here and with all this fog, we could easily wind up hiking over a cliff.”

“We could just sit here and wait for the weather to clear,” said Oatmeal.

“Which would be when, exactly?” said Salad.

“Not to worry,” said Rapunzel. “It's that way.” She pointed in a seemingly random direction.

“How do you know?” said Lettie. “I do not want to get lost out here!”

“I can feel the earth's magnetic field.”

“She's a goddess!” exclaimed one of the hikers.

Eugene looked at Rapunzel.

“Don't start with me, dearest,” she warned, but with a bit of a lilt to her voice.

“She's at least a human compass,” said Cougarsbane.

“I suppose I'll concede to that,” she said resignedly. “May I see the map?” she asked Eugene.

He brought out the map and held it up. “See?” he said.

“Ha, ha.” She held out her hand expectantly. He stepped over, held out the map, but snatched it back as she reached for it.

“At least clean the blood off your hands first?” he teased.

She looked down at her hands, which bore dried blood she hadn't bothered to clean off the night before, stuck her tongue out at him, grabbed one of his pack straps, put he other hand around the back of his neck, pulled him down and kissed him soundly. Then he handed her the map, which she opened and, after thumbing through it for a few moments, arrived at the correct page. She considered it for a moment, then turned and trudged off through the snow with everyone on her heels.

*****

They stood on the banks of Evolution Creek. While it had already been light for a couple of hours, the rising sun had not yet crested over the rim of the valley. The air was still crisp, damp and cold. Everyone except Rapunzel was shivering violently despite having already walked several hundred meters. The trail disappeared into a raging torrent of water to emerge from it again on the opposite bank a full thirty meters away.

Harold and Liesel stood there blinking at it. Lettie let out a series of weak squeaking sounds and sank to her knees. Osric placed his hands on her shoulders and stared grimly at nothing in particular. Salad, Cougarsbane and Oatmeal looked at each other, as did Suncup and GreyJay. Howl rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Neil, Eugene and Rapunzel watched the water with fascination.

“We must cross _that?!_ ” blurted Sophie.

“Aye,” said Neil.

“How?”

“Just like we crossed those other streams. It's just more of the same, really.”

“But this is twice as wide and twice as deep and twice as fast! That, and,” she looked over at her sister, “Lettie is...absolutely terrified and so am I!”

“She's right,” said Oatmeal, “It _is_ rather intimidating.”

“Yeah,” said Salad, “we should look for a better spot downstream. Maybe you big men can handle that, but someone like me would get swept away before I got halfway!”

“I told you you should have been eating meat,” said Cougarsbane.

Salad gave him the raspberry.

“Observe,” said Neil. With that, he plunged into the water. After a couple of meters, he looked back. “It's just like the others. And, yes, it's still _cold!_ ” He continued his slow, deliberate, painstaking progress. He seemed to falter in several places. Each time, he regained his footing, paused for a few moments while he steadied himself, then continued. At one point, the water was up past his waist. After a full ten minutes, he reached the opposite shore. “See?” he shouted, “Nothing to it!”

“That didn't look like nothing,” Eugene admitted.

“Can't you, like, evaporate it while we all cross?” said Salad to Rapunzel.

“That would create flash flooding downstream when she stopped,” said Howl.

“And it would take a lot of energy,” added Rapunzel.

“I thought you siphoned energy off of that...whatever it is,” said Oatmeal.

“Sun-blood,” she corrected. “I do, but it takes bioenergy to do that, which means using up calories and I'm already burning through those a lot faster than I thought.”

“There _has_ to be a log downstream,” said Salad. “I still think that's our best bet.”

“A log, you say?” said Rapunzel pensively. “Would that reach across?” she asked pointing at a large tree standing near the water's edge. It was a lodgepole pine nearly a half-meter in diameter at the base and standing just a couple of paces from the water's edge.

They all looked up at it. “Yes,” said Howl, “I'm pretty sure it would. But it's still nice and healthy and wedged pretty well into all this rocky soil.”

“Yeah,” said Cougarsbane. “It would take a full-grown grizzly to push it over. And then good luck aiming it.”

“We're not going to push it over,” said Rapunzel.

“We're not?”

“No. Remember Bighorn?”

They nodded. Then one by one it dawned on them what she was planning to do.

“No,” said Salad, “you can't just drop a tree like that. It's against the rules!”

“I'm pretty sure I _can_ ,” Rapunzel retorted. “Everyone stand back.”

They did so. She peered at the tree and then a bit of it exploded out over the stream leaving a void of shattered wood several inches deep and wide. She did it again and again, essentially cutting a notch into it in much the same way a beaver would. _Poomp! Poomp! Poomp-poomp!_ Bits of tree exploded outward from its center, gradually eating further and further into its trunk.

“What are you doing?” Neil shouted from the opposite bank. “Are you crazy?!”

Rapunzel ignored him and kept going. _Poomp! Poomp! Snap-Poomp!_ Slowly the tree began to shift toward the stream. She stopped as it began to lean in a progressively downstream direction. “The weight balance is a bit off. It keeps wanting to go that way,” she said pointing downstream, “instead of that way,” she indicated what she'd intended to be a perpendicular log bridge.

“Howl, Harold, would you mind?” said Eugene, motioning them to follow him over to the tree. When the two of them had joined him, they all placed their hands on it and began to push. It swayed a little, but didn't move much. “We need more,” he said to his wife.

“Is that safe?” said Salad.

“Not really,” he admitted, “but if the bits are exploding that way,” he motioned toward the stream, “I think we'll be alright. Besides, we have our own field surgeon,” he added, nodding to Sophie.

“Ha, ha,” said Sophie dryly.

“So we'll push while you...do what you were doing,” said Eugene. The three men went back to leaning on the tree. Rapunzel resumed the operation. _Poomp! Poomp! Crack!_ The tree slowly began to respond to the combination of loss of structural integrity and the pressure of three men pushing against it.

“Almost there!” said Eugene.

 _Poomp! Crack! Crack! Crack-crack-craaaack!_ The tree finally began to fall and in the desired direction.

“Get back!” shouted Rapunzel.

They did and the last bit of trunk shattered outward in all directions, leaving the entire mass in near-freefall. They watched it as it arced through the air. Its ruined lower trunk ground off its base, lodged in the ground next to it, pivoted and rotated, its branches making a whooshing sound as it continued to fall. It caught on a few smaller trees as it came down toward the opposite bank and twisted further, finally coming to a stop with a loud _THUD-SLAP_ as it smacked the ground and slapped the water. It bounced slightly and then came fully to rest, leaving a few inches clearance between it and the stream.

“Not bad!” said GreyJay, clearly impressed.

“ _Now_ we can cross safely!” said Rapunzel.

“You're amazing,” said Eugene.

“Aw....” she said, walked over and kissed him.

“Get a room, guys,” said Cougarsbane.

They laughed. Lettie seemed to be recovering at the sight of the newly-presented log bridge. Osric helped her to her feet, hugged for for a few moments and they joined the others converging on the log. It hadn't fallen completely perpendicular to the stream. It lay at a shallow angle to the tread and would have been regarded as a particularly annoying blow-down had it been along a non-stream part of the trail. One by one, they stepped up onto the tree and walked carefully to the other side.

“You're nuts!” said Neil once they'd all reconvened on the northbound shore. “That was dangerous and you deprived yourselves of a PCT rite-of-passage.”

“No, _that_ ,” said Eugene, pointing back at the stream, “is dangerous. We encountered an obstacle and overcame it. We safely and effectively negotiated the crossing of Evolution Creek. Just because we employed an unconventional solution doesn't mean we don't get credit for passing the test. It was a team effort. What could be more PCT than that?”

“Besides, it was just way cool!” said Cougarsbane.

“Albeit scary,” added Salad.

Neil just muttered wordlessly under his breath. With that, they continued northward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At 13,200 ft., Forrester Pass is the highest point along the PCT.
> 
> It is not unusual for a hiker to slip and go sliding down a snowy slope while negotiating one of the many high passes in the Sierra. Most veteran hikers strongly recommend that all incipient through-hikers carry an ice-axe through the Sierra, know how to use it, and practice self-arrest techniques ahead of time.
> 
> Evolution Creek is a notoriously difficult ford during through-hiking season. It is also generally the most-dreaded.


	11. Yosemite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fellowship spends a few days enjoying the grandeur of Yosemite. Eugene and Rapunzel discover a way to amplify their sun-bathing experience.

Rapunzel, Eugene, and Sophie stood in the morning sun near Donohue Pass, the last such cresting before reaching Tuolumne Meadows in the heart of Yosemite. Rapunzel was thoroughly enjoying herself. It was one of their rare sunbaths in the High Sierra not blocked by clouds or trees or some high wall of granite. She could feel the dew clinging to her bare skin, the sensation contrasting nicely with the warmth of the sun. She was also enjoying what she was sensing from Eugene and she could tell he was just as thoroughly enjoying watching her enjoying herself. It made her enjoy herself more, which made him enjoy himself more and before long, they'd set up another one of their mutual glowing sessions. It occurred to Rapunzel that she was going to have to learn how to control it before returning to Corona.

Rapunzel was again amused by the sight and sense of her family and friends shivering partly from the cold and partly from just seeing her _not_ shivering. When everyone was up, they cooked breakfast. Those hikers who had stoves used them and Rapunzel discovered she could use focused sunlight to heat water, rather than having to tap into the sun-blood. Afterward, they made for Donohue Pass, dropping into the deep valley on its far side. Neil started humming “The Imperial March,” which was instantly picked up by Howl and the other twenty-first century hikers. It set the pace for the day's hike and Rapunzel soon found the tune thoroughly stuck in her own head.

They followed the Tuolumne River along the bottom of Lyell Canyon to a bridge crossing into Tuolumne Meadows proper. Rapunzel noticed the crowds...which weren't really crowds per se, just a lot more people than they'd grown used to seeing since Kennedy Meadows. Most of them looked at her in alarm. She was beginning to think that maybe her reputation had preceded her when she realized to her horror that both she and Eugene were covered in animal blood! Somehow she hadn't really noticed, but now that she was aware of it, she decided she should find somewhere to wash and make herself presentable for what her parents called civilized company.

She and Eugene went to find some running water and then met the others at the Kennedy Meadows General Store. The other hikers retrieved their resupply packages in the usual way. The Fellowship, however, opened a portal to Wales via an obliging door. Megan thrust piles of freshly-baked goodies, a pile of Cornish meat-and-vegetable pies and a bundle of bratwurst at them. Rapunzel had the feeling that Megan was going quite far out of her way and she made sure to make up for some of her earlier un-Princessly behavior by thanking Howl's sister in profusely elegant language, which made Megan laugh. Rapunzel made a point of not saying anything about her newly-acquired, unconventional dietary habits.

The Fellowship parted ways with the other hikers, who headed west toward Yosemite Valley, while they themselves went to find showers. They took turns watching each other's gear. Rapunzel and Eugene showered together, partly for efficiency and partly because they'd learned it was handy having someone to help wash those hard-to-reach places. Rapunzel quickly found herself carried away in the moment and abruptly turned around and jumped into her husband's arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck. He wasn't expecting it and he nearly slipped. He almost dropped her, and accidentally slammed her into the wall while trying to keep his balance.

Rapunzel was initially startled by the pain, an gasped in response, but made the effort to look past it in favor of something much more pleasurable. Their glow diffused pleasantly through the shower spray and it occurred to her that at the rate they were going...or, rather, coming...it was highly likely she'd be pregnant by the time they reached Manning.

As they emerged, Howl made some snide remark and Sophie elbowed him in the ribs. They all relaxed outdoors for a while before checking into their rooms at the Lodge and going for a sit-down dinner. Howl had dressed “to the nines”--an expression with which the Coronans were unfamiliar—in something intermediate between English dress attire and the fancy suits he used to wear on Ingary. He insisted that being out in the wilderness was no excuse to avoid looking one's best, especially when one was at a nice dinner with one's wife. Rapunzel made a mental note to use that line on Eugene, who still favored what he felt was comfortable over what was presentable and often had to be convinced or occasionally threatened.

Howl dropped the translation spell to avoid the confusion resulting from the Ingarians' mouths not matching the words the wait-staff would be hearing. Instead, Howl translated the menu, as the Ingarians still hadn't learned how to read English. Rapunzel was still surprised at how much English had changed since 1603. Then Howl shared how it was he managed to make their reservations without knowing their exact arrival date. After returning to Wales in a couple of weeks, he'll send a message to himself in the past telling himself when they'll arrive in Yosemite. Rapunzel wasn't sure what to think of that, though she thought she'd had a handle on thinking in four dimensions, tricky though it was.

After dinner, they all retired to their rooms. Rapunzel shared her suspicions about pregnancy and she was surprised to find that while Eugene was still uneasy about the idea of fatherhood, he was strangely comfortable with it. That made Rapunzel happy enough to glow brightly as she snuggled up to him.

*****

They all took a zero the next day. Rapunzel and Eugene tried to sleep in, but discovered that being through-hikers and sun-bearers made it nearly impossible. They had an east-facing room, so decided to try taking their sun-bath just laying there in bed. They were soon both struck by the thought that if the sun-bath feels really good and if a certain conjugal activity feels really good, then both at the same time.... They lay there afterward, glowing like crazy, which was quite visible in the full sunlight, and Rapunzel enthusiastically declared it to be the best thing _EVER!_

They went for breakfast, then returned to their room to try it again, but found that the sun had risen too high and they were too full from breakfast. Rapunzel was still hell-bent on trying to reproduce the experience, so they agreed to revisit the matter the next morning...not that Eugene was at all objecting.

They decided to find a rock and just lay out in the sun for a while doing nothing in particular. They walked across the road to the base of Lembert Dome, a massive piece of granite on the north side. A wide apron rose from the valley floor up the steepening side of the dome to become a vertical wall. They found a good spot near where the rock emerged from the grasses, penstemons, potentillas, shooting stars, elephant-heads and other meadow plants. The expanse of rock was solid, without so much as a crack for many meters in any direction.

They lay there for a good long while. While they'd aimed to take a nap, they didn't really succeed, though it was nice and relaxing anyway. At one point, they were interrupted by a Ranger, who'd received reports about them and came to investigate for safety reasons. While they were both initially annoyed at the disruption, Eugene had to remind himself that the man was just doing his job and Rapunzel had to remind herself that people had only reported it because they cared. She also had to remind herself that people didn't know she and Eugene didn't get sunburn.

After another while, and after Rapunzel's growling stomach grew too loud to ignore, they got up and headed back toward the lodge for dinner. Rapunzel restrained the urge to kill a squirrel and to try to talk a small boy out of the freshly-caught trout he was carrying. She was pretty sure she could have bested his father and elder brother in unarmed combat, even though both men were built like rhinos.

Rapunzel ordered her steak raw. The waiter tried to avoid looking at her like she was nuts, but she knew better. He politely informed her that they couldn't serve it raw and her subsequent inquisition resulted in a manager having to explain that it was against health regulations. She settled for rare, which she found surprisingly acceptable. She had to admit, thought, that she really did prefer the texture of cooked meat, but the taste of raw.

After dinner, they went to watch the sun set before retiring back to their room.

*****

They were supposed to head out, but a discussion resulted in another change of plans and they decided to take a shuttle down to Yosemite Valley. Apparently, Howl knew they were going to do that and had already made the reservation for the additional night. Eugene made some remark about that making his head hurt, which amused Rapunzel.

Rapunzel's head swiveled around like an owl in much the same way it had when Eugene had brought her to the capital city of Corona on her eighteenth birthday. They'd all seen a lot of high country granite, but there was a certain amount of dramatic grandeur about the Yosemite Valley. She was completely captivated by the place, so much so that Eugene thought he might get jealous.

They hiked up the Mist Trail next to Vernal Falls, where the Merced River flowed over a cliff. Rapunzel was enjoying herself so much, she started glowing. While Eugene always enjoyed that particular sight, he was glad the mist from the falls and the steam from her skin diffused it as it did. They all noticed how different this sort of walking was from barreling down the trail with a full pack trying to log the miles while keeping from falling off the trail or into the drink. Rapunzel still found herself drooling over the squirrels.

After lunch, they hiked up the Yosemite Falls trail and then up the back of Half Dome. Rapunzel was nearly vibrating to the point that Eugene was afraid she might try to fly. He wasn't entirely certain about Howl, though, considering the stories he and Sophie had been telling about all the highly improbable things the two of them had done on Ingary.

Rapunzel finally gave into her urges and ate a lizard. While she'd grown accustomed to having the highest metabolism in the world, she still found it to be quite inconvenient.

The Ingarians spent all day babbling to each other in Ingarian. Rapunzel was learning more and more of their language and even Eugene was starting to pick up a little of it.

They returned to Tuolumne Meadows at the end of the day and turned in. They wanted to get an early start in the morning. Rapunzel refrained from commenting on her desire to eat a bear, although it was very much on her mind.


	12. An Eye for an Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An on-trail injury motivates Sophie to use her skills in an unusual way, with long-term consequences that could threaten causality.

Lettie took point heading north from the Sonora Pass trailhead. They were leaving the granite that had been ubiquitous since just north of Kennedy Meadows to be greeted by the extruded volcanics of what Neil was calling the Not-so-High Sierra. The trail was clear, but rocky, and loose pieces of basalt lay here and there, making the footing unpredictable and an even gait nearly impossible. A strong afternoon wind eliminated all insect problems, for which everyone was grateful. The heat radiating from the rock contrasted with the coolness of the high mountain air, which bore that feeling of impending evening.

As they crested the eastern shoulder of Sonora Peak, Wolf Creek Lake lay off to their right down in a small tarn. Snow still clung to north- and east-facing slopes and lay in hollows. A large flat area north of the lake was their destination. A snowfield lay where the spur trail junction should have been, but that was certainly nothing new to any of them. They simply struck off in that general direction and soon reached the flat.

Somebody was already there. It looked like three couples: a man and woman probably in their late 50's; two young men in their mid-30's who bore a striking resemblance to the elder gentleman and were probably his sons; and two young women, who were probably their wives, one of which carried a young boy, probably around two years old. Between them, they wore and possessed the most eclectic collection of clothing and gear any of the Fellowship had ever seen. That wasn't necessarily saying much, but between them, they'd seen quite possibly every backpacking gear set-up known to man on every type of hiker—day, weekend, section, through, young, old, etc.--since Campo. There were external and internal frame packs, pads, big and small sleeping bags, trekking poles, flannels, various pieces of this and that lashed to packs, some new, some beat-up nearly beyond recognition and held together with duct tape—it was all standard gear, but mis-matched in a way that seemed to reflect the sum of at least thirty years of accumulated backpacking equipment. They appeared to have only just arrived themselves, although probably not along the northbound PCT, else someone in the Fellowship would surely have noticed.

“Hello!” said the elder woman cheerfully.

“Please join us,” added the elder gentleman. “We'll scootch together.”

“Would you...excuse us for a minute?” said Eugene. Then he turned to his companions. “Conference?” They huddled.

“It's like Barrel Springs all over again,” said Howl.

Eugene turned to Rapunzel. “Did you...?”

“Already know they were here?” she finished his question. “Yes, I detected their presence.”

“And you didn't say anything because...?”

She shrugged.

“There really isn't anywhere else to camp around here anyway,” said Neil, “so it would have been rather a moot point.”

“They do seem friendly enough,” said Harold.

“Have we met any hikers who aren't friendly?” said Liesel.

“Well, there was that one fellow who called my daughter a fusion bomb,” said Harold thoughtfully. Then after a pause, “I admit, I don't know what that is, but it didn't sound very polite.”

Rapunzel stepped over, hugged her father, then stepped back again without a word. He raised an eyebrow and she just smiled.

“It...looks crowded,” said Lettie.

“Don't worry,” said Liesel, “we're all family.”

“We are?” Lettie blinked a few times in surprise.

“Absolutely,” said Harold.

Warm smiles spread among the members of the Fellowship. While there were two distinct familial units there, few of them had realized just how close-knit they'd become, especially since Kennedy Meadows. They'd become one family in most ways that really mattered.

“Uh, guys,” said Neil, pointing at Sophie, Eugene and Rapunzel, “you're...glowing a little.”

“Oh, right,” they muttered.

“Warm fuzzies kind of...do that,” said Sophie, slightly apologetically.

“I guess there's nothing for it,” said Howl.

“Oh, and Honey?” said Eugene to Rapunzel.

“Yes, I should be more subtle with my powers, I know.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze on a shoulder and smiled. Then they broke the huddle.

“Okay, sure,” said Howl.

They all took off their packs and set them down in a general circle around the flat spot, roughly where their tents were going to be. Then they set about preparing dinner. Sophie and Lettie fetched water from the lake while Rapunzel set it to boil. The others were hunched over an assortment of stoves that matched their eclectic gear and didn't notice Rapunzel's stove-less cooking. Everyone's food in both groups was ready at more or less the same time and they all gathered around the middle of the space, sitting on logs or rocks or right on the thin conifer duff that covered the ground. After a few bites, conversation began, starting with introductions.

The elder man was Larry Hunt, the elder woman his wife Ginny. Their two sons were Luke and Ben. Luke's wife was Heather, their son Jacob—whom Rapunzel, Sophie, Lettie, and Liesel all thought was adorable. Ben's wife was Ali. The Fellowship—which name seemed to amuse the Hunts--introduced themselves, too. The Hunts had begun their hike at Highland Lakes, about a mile and a half west of where the PCT approached Asa Lake some twenty trail-miles north of where they sat. They'd taken a minor trail down to the Clark Fork of the Stanislaus River, then followed another trail alongside that stream and then over a sketchy path cresting the northern shoulder of Sonora Peak. From Wolf Creek Lake, they planned to follow the PCT north to Ebbetts Pass. The conversation wore on to dusk and they collectively decided that they'd all hike together as far as Ebbetts. It meant the Fellowship would have to slow down a little, shaving their intended 15-mile days down to 10-12, which would add another day or so to their journey to Echo Lakes. They felt they could handle that, even if it meant rationing their food a little and Rapunzel eating a few more squirrels—that last bit remained unspoken.

By the time they'd finished eating, it was after dark and no one had really set up camp yet. Among the Hunts, only Luke and Heather carried a tent, theirs a small dome-type and not particularly ultralight. The other Hunts laid out a tarp as a ground cloth and slept cowboy-style. The members of the Fellowship pitched their tents, a task at which even Osric and Lettie had become quite adept. They, too, had a TarpTent Double Rainbow. Neil simply threw out a small Tyvek sheet and 3/4-length foam pad.

*****

Ben awoke to a few birds chirping. There weren't many of them at that elevation, but as long as there was habitat, they'd always be found and they'd always wake you up before you were really ready. Still, it was pretty and it sure beat that alarm clock back home!

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The chill air poked at his skin, but he barely noticed. The scenery was also way better than the four walls back home, which wasn't saying much—anything outdoors was better than anything indoors, except maybe for a log cabin. He blinked as he looked around, which he always did early in the morning. He almost missed having to mess with his contact lenses...almost.

He was surprised to see Eugene and Rapunzel already up. They were standing motionless at the edge of the lake, looking east. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a dull glow emanating from their skin. He nudged Ali, who was just awakening herself, and motioned wordlessly toward the lake. She looked at the Fitzherberts for a few moments, then back at Ben and raised an eyebrow.

He leaned over and spoke quietly into her ear. “Is it my imagination, or do they look like they're glowing?”

“It sort of looks that way.” She paused to peer more intently in their direction. “Maybe it's a trick of the light.”

Just then, Sophie emerged from her tent and walked over to the lake to join the Fitzherberts in their doing-nothing-in-particular-but-standing-there-looking-east. The dawning sun broke over the crest, its rays falling first upon Sonora Peak, then the small lake and its western and southern shore. When its angle reached the three, they visibly perked up like someone taking their first sips of coffee and smiles spread across their faces.

“Huh,” said Ben simply.

After a short while, everyone else began to stir. There were various mutterings and non-verbal utterances about how cold it was. Everyone was used to it, so it had become more a matter of tradition. The most important thing about dealing with the weather was simply deciding to accept and endure it, since there was really nothing else you _could_ do when hiking along a trail many miles away from anything resembling the comforts of civilization.

One by one, they all pried themselves out of their bags and tents and set about with their respective morning routines, which generally included stretches, cat-holes, and breakfast. For the Fellowship, it meant Rapunzel, Sophie and Lettie were on breakfast detail while the men stowed sleeping bags and packed down tents. The Hunts were busy with their own morning routine and again didn't notice Rapunzel holding pots of boiling water in her hands.

With breakfast and cleanup finished and camp struck, they all headed back to the PCT and turned northward. Larry supplied commentary on the wildlife and natural history. Luke and Ben made the occasional interdiction. The Hunts were quite friendly and personable and it didn't take long for the two groups to start mingling. It turned out they were all doctors: Larry in forestry, Ginny in physics, and the other four in various sub-fields of medicine. That last greatly interested Sophie and the five of them spent a considerable amount of time discussing the subject from their various points-of-view.

Howl and Ginny discovered that while their fields overlapped, their areas of expertise diverged to a point—he was both fascinated at her level of knowledge and annoyed at how pretty much every other physicist, including Ginny, clung to what he considered to be conventional quantum mechanics and that no one acknowledged the existence of other dimensions of space beyond the hypothetical, let alone dark energy, transimplicative dynamics, and interstitial mattergetic flow, among other things.

Rapunzel wanted to know why animals tasted like what they ate, but Larry had no idea—apparently he rarely actually ate much wildlife except trout. Neil was impressed with their collective outdoors experience. Harold and Liesel simply enjoyed all the enthusiasm and the way their family--actual and honorary—had hit it off with the Hunts. Lettie and Osric were finding it hard to follow any of it, although they, too, could appreciate everyone's enthusiasm. Everyone in the Fellowship intentionally avoided saying anything about sun-bearing or pyrokinesis. Howl again dispensed with the translation spell and while the language barriers were making clear communication a challenge at times, everyone seemed to be handling it well enough. 

They stopped for elevenses—even the Hunts called it that—at a crossing of Boulder Creek. There was plenty of water and plenty of bare ground for everyone to spread out. Rapunzel killed a squirrel. The Hunts weren't so much freaked out about it as much as a little revolted at watching an otherwise perfectly nice young girl tear into a small rodent as though she were the human embodiment of a cougar. They were astonished that the members of the Fellowship seemed to be completely nonchalant about this and even more so when they learned she'd been doing that since the San Felipe Hills. They were intrigued, however, by her assessment of the flavor of squirrel as “nutty,” so much so that they expressed a willingness to try it at some point.

They camped on a flat spur jutting out from the eastern base of Disaster Peak. Lettie was rather nervous about that until Larry shared some more of the history of the area, including how the peak had been given its dubious name. There wasn't quite enough space for everyone at one spot, so they all pretty much had to spread out.

Howl and Ginny were still arguing about whether or not the laws of physics were really suggestions. Sophie and the younger Hunts were still discussing medicine, she from an internal point of view and they from an evidence-centric one—unlike Howl and Ginny, they weren't arguing so much as engaging in lively discussion, each recognizing that the one was a facet of the other. Lettie and Osric had been showing a great deal of interest in the native flora—which had, in fact, begun shortly after their arrival at Kennedy Meadows—and Larry was sharing more of his knowledge on the subject. All of these conversations were still complicated by language barriers and Howl was considering erecting the translation field. The royals sat there watching it all with fascination, Rapunzel munching on a chipmunk.

Liesel leaned over to her. “Elsa, dear, must you eat _all_ of the wildlife? I realize you're always hungry but it's...unseemly.”

Rapunzel sighed and delicately licked the blood off her lips in what she hoped was Princess-ly fashion. “Yes, Mama, I know. When we return home and I no longer have to eat like a through-hiker and when I have to...keep up appearances...I'll be a _lot_ more discreet about my diet...I promise.”

Liesel smiled.

“Just don't expect me to wear shoes...ever,” added Rapunzel flatly.

Liesel turned to Harold. “She takes after _you_ , you know.”

Harold chuckled, put an arm around his wife, then leaned over and kissed her.  
Dinner went pretty much as it had the previous evening. The Hunts led a round of “No kidding, there I was...” stories, mainly involving various outdoor pursuits. Some of those echoed similar incidents experienced or witnessed by members of the Fellowship further south, which they themselves shared. Others stories, like those involving things like windsurfing and snowboarding, were quite alien to all but Howl and Neil. Those in the Fellowship felt themselves becoming fast friends with the Hunts, despite only knowing them a short time, despite having spent far more time with other hikers and despite having crossed paths with far more other people along the way. None of them minded, they simply weren't really expecting it.

*****

The next morning, Eugene, Rapunzel and Sophie rose early for their sunbath. Sophie had been joining them in their ritual since Tuolumne Meadows and was surprised she hadn't been doing it before that.

“By the way,” she said, “welcome to the siblinghood, Eugene. I...kept forgetting to say that.”

“Siblinghood?” he said.

“Yes. You are the newest sun-bearer.”

“We have a siblinghood?” said Rapunzel.

“More or less. Although there are only four of us, so far as I know.”

“Four?”

“Yes. The three of us and Aedan.”

“Why him?” said Eugene.

“He is my son. When he was conceived, part of the starfire I bear calved off of me and became part of him. Hence, he was born a sun-bearer.”

Eugene and Rapunzel stood there and blinked at her.

“No, I do not know if your children will be sun-bearers too,” continued Sophie, answering their unspoken question, “but I strongly suspect it will be so.” She closed her eyes, then turned back eastward, anticipating the breaking dawn. Eugene and Rapunzel did the same and soon all three were drinking in the early morning rays as they spilled over the White Mountains to the east.

They were interrupted a few minutes later by a scream. They all whirled around. Tents shook violently as those not already up burst forth from their shattered slumber. Everyone else was looking in a generally uphill direction, frozen in the positions of whatever they'd been doing. Ben stumbled out of the trees, a hand over his left eye. Blood streamed down his face. Everyone dropped everything and rushed to him, some offering hands to steady him, others asking a barrage of questions. Apparently, he'd turned around and run into the stub of a pine branch, which had punctured his eye. Sophie tried repeatedly to help, but hands brushed her away.

“Silence!” Harold's baritone voice cut through the clamor and they all looked over at him, now silent, save for Ben's quiet whimpering. “I believe Lady Sophie is most qualified to handle this particular situation,” he said sternly. “Now if you would all kindly get out of her way and allow her to do her work, Doctor Ben and his Lady wife would both be most appreciative.”

They all gawked at him.

“ _NOW!_ ”

They moved--except for Ali, who remained at Ben's side holding his hand--and Sophie stepped forward and laid a hand on his forehead. After a moment, Ben quieted.

Howl subtly raised the translation field to facilitate communication, then nodded to Sophie.

“I have dulled the nerves connected to your eye,” said Sophie, her mouth not matching the words the English-speakers now heard. “You will notice the vision in your right has blurred, but you need not be concerned. We will deal with that later. Now lay down, please and we will assess the damage,” she said calmly.

He did so. Then she moved his hand away from his face. As they all suspected, his left eye had completely ruptured. “Lettie, would you please hand me some water?” she said, still speaking in Ingarian. While Sophie washed the blood off from around Ben's eye socket, Howl explained the translation spell.

“Um...” said Luke, “...but what about the...pain?”

“It's magic,” said Howl.

“There's no such thing,” said Ginny.

“Then call it an aspect of the holistic physics we've been discussing. Consider this a...demonstration.” He glanced down at Ben, the back at Ginny. “Don't worry. Sophie is the most powerful empathic healer anyone has seen in at least ten generations. Your son is in excellent hands.”

“Shouldn't...shouldn't one of us be doing that?” said Luke, looking back at his brother. “After all, we _are_ doctors. Besides, we really should get him to a hospital.”

“Yes, you are, and I recognize all of that,” she said evenly. “However, I am the attending physician and if we do this my way, not only will your proposed trip be unnecessary, but he will be just fine before anyone arrives to evacuate him anyway.”

“What?!” said Heather and Ali in unison.

“Look,” said Larry, “we appreciate your willingness to help. But he's going to need antibiotics and that socket cleaned out and possibly some therapy.”

“He will need no such thing,” retorted Sophie.

“But...” began Luke. Sophie glared at him and he closed his mouth.

“I have bad news, good news, more good news and more bad news,” she continued. “The bad news is that your left eye has been completely destroyed. The good news is that I can grow it back. The other good news is that most of the cells are still alive, so I will not have to re-grow the entire organ from scratch, and this will be mainly a reconstruction. The other bad news is that it will hurt...a _lot_.”

“What?!” said Ali again.

“Um,” said Ben, “eyes don't regenerate.”

“Not on their own, no. But with my skills, this one will. Synchronizing it physically and neurologically with the other one might be tricky, but we should get started.”

Ben nodded. “We all think you're nuts, but, well, I'd like my eye back. What do I have to do?”

“First, Rapunzel, we need two squirrels,” she said to the Princess, who got up and went in search of them. “Second, Doctor Ben, you now have that opportunity to see what she meant by squirrels tasting nutty. You must also eat it raw. It is disgusting, yes, but not as bad as it sounds, and you will need it. I will suppress your gag reflex. Third, I need the rest of you to hold him down.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“All of your nerves must be fully active for this to work. That is one advantage that your conventional medicine has over this. So, yes, you will feel everything in full. In fact, I have had only two regeneration patients who have not passed out from the pain and one of them had an underactive medulla oblongata.”

“And the other?” said Ben.

Sophie held up her right hand and flexed it a couple of times. “I can tell you that, no, it will _not_ be much fun and I _do_ , in fact, 'feel your pain,' as you say. As my husband said, consider this a demonstration of what we have been discussing.”

Just then, Rapunzel returned with a pair of golden-mantled ground squirrels.

“First, you drink the blood, then we extract the liver, kidneys, spleen and heart and you eat those, and then the muscle.” She placed a hand on his forehead for a moment. “I have just deactivated your gag reflex. We certainly do not need _that_ right now. I have also accelerated your digestion so that your body can assimilate this faster. The longer we wait, the more difficult the procedure will be. Without further ado....”

Rapunzel stepped up, held the first animal up to Ben, sliced its throat and jammed it into his mouth. His facial expressions changed several times as the animal's blood drained down his throat. Then she repeated this with the other one.

“You're right,” he said with a surprised tone while she gutted one of the squirrels. “That's _not_ half bad. Where did you learn to eat raw squirrel?”

“I get hungry,” she said evenly as she fed him the first liver.

“Okay,” said Heather, and she turned around, dashed over to the edge of camp and retched.

“Me too,” said Luke as he joined her.

“Me three,” said Ali, working really hard to keep herself under control, “but I'm not going anywhere.”

Sophie reached over and placed a hand on Ali's forehead. “That would not do at all, now, would it?”

“How do you _do_ that?”

“I am an empath. It is complicated.”

After a few more minutes, Ben had consumed all of the organ meat. When he'd finished with the muscle, Rapunzel dumped their remains in the woods outside of camp, burned the mess off of her hands and returned.

“Now we can get to work,” said Sophie a half-hour later. She placed one hand on Ben's forehead and the other over his eye socket. “Now I need you all to steel yourselves. This is going to become very unpleasant very quickly. I need all of you,” she nodded to the Hunts, “to hold him down and all of you,” she nodded to her own people, “to be standing by as backup in case one of them has to let go for any reason. Lettie, I need you to assist me, mainly to help keep the wound hydrated and flushed with water. And, yes, that will hurt, too. Oh, and one more thing, once I begin, I must not be interrupted. This should take about an hour and must be done all at once. Let us begin.”

With everyone in position, Sophie closed her eyes and started muttering under her breath. Almost immediately, Ben began to twitch, squirm, and make all sorts of loud and unpleasant sounds. As Sophie expected, a few members of the Fellowship had to take over for a few of the Hunts. At one point, Jacob began to fuss and Heather had to walk him over closer to the white noise of Disaster Creek. After a full hour of screaming and twitching, it was over.

Sophie removed her hands, took a long drink of water and then handed some to Ben, who was panting heavily. He took the bottle and drained it.

“That sucked,” he said simply. The other Hunts looked at each other, as he didn't usually use that expression.

“You'll need some additional protein and carbohydrate. Rapunzel, are there any more squirrels?”

Rapunzel closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head. “No, we must have scared them all.”

“As soon as we encounter one, please kill it and then give it to Ben. Ben, how do you feel?”

“Um...” he was uncertain how to answer that. “Well, it doesn't hurt anymore, but I'm exhausted.” Then he held a hand over his right eye, then his left and then his right again. “Wow! It works!” Then there were hugs all around, which Sophie didn't expect.

“If I hadn't seen it myself,” said Luke, “I wouldn't have believed it.”

“I'm still not sure I believe it,” said Ali, turning to Sophie, “but thank-you...I think.”

“That was the single most difficult thing I've ever had to do,” said Larry. Ginny echoed it.

“We know how you feel,” said Harold.

“You do?” said Ali.

“Liesel nearly died giving birth to Elsa...Rapunzel.”

“Eugene nearly died in my arms three days after we met,” said Rapunzel.

“I watched my entire world end,” said Sophie. Lettie nodded, fighting back tears from the still-painful memory. Osric put an arm around her and nodded too.

“It was touch-and-go with Rapunzel for a while a couple of years ago,” said Eugene.

“Wow,” said Larry, “It sounds like you've been through a lot.”

“You have no idea,” muttered Howl.

“Maybe we'll share some of it at camp tonight,” said Liesel.

They all nodded. They let Ben rest while everyone else struck camp. When he felt up to it, they all set off. It was a good thing they were only going as far as Noble Lake, less than ten trail-miles north.

****

Rapunzel took point on their approach to Wolf Creek Pass. It wasn't even remotely like the passes in the High Sierra, little more than a rise relative to the rest of the trail since Sonora Pass. It separated the much higher ridges that bore Arnot Peak to the southwest and Bull Peak to the northeast. Their route would make a climbing traverse up that ridge and over a saddle before descending to Noble Lake and then later to Ebbetts Pass. As she crested the rise, she stopped, hopped a couple of times and squealed.

“What?” said Eugene.

“ _MINE!_ ” she yelled, still looking ahead and then dashed off out of sight.

“What was that?” said Ali.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Eugene.

“What do you mean?” said Ginny.

“I think she saw something she wants to eat. Judging by her reaction, I'd say it's a bear.”

“What?!” said Larry. “She's not going to attack a bear!”

“It'll run anyway,” said Ben.

“That won't matter,” said Eugene. “She'll drop it. Then she'll ask us all to hold it up while she drains it.”

“How do you know?” said Heather.

“She's only been talking about it since Kennedy Meadows,” said Howl. “And she did that to a cougar at Muir Pass. We'd better follow her.”

They crested the rise and looked around. Through the trees, at the edge of the meadow, they saw Rapunzel. She was standing next to something they didn't recognize at that distance, waving her arms excitedly. As they approached they saw that, as Eugene had expected, she'd dropped a large black bear. It lay on the forest duff several meters away from the trail. Something oozed from an ear and its eyes had burst, blood and fluids matting the fur around its empty sockets. She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, grinning from ear to ear.

“Eugene, would you and...most of you...be dears and hold this up for me while I drain it? And I'm going to need everyone's kettles.”

Eugene rolled his eyes, shook his head slowly, but complied. “I told you so,” he muttered.

“How did she...?” said Heather.

“It's complicated,” said Howl. At her raised eyebrow, he added, “I'll explain more later.”

When several kettles had been filled with blood and it looked like no more was forthcoming, Rapunzel motioned for the men to lower the bear back to the ground. Then she raised one of the kettles to her mouth and took a sip, closing her eyes, appearing to savor it. “That's not bad. Cougar's superior, but this is still a lot better than squirrel. Here, Ben, you'll like this.” She handed him another of the kettles.

“What?” said Ali. She turned to Sophie. “Must he?”

“Well, no,” said Sophie, “but it certainly would not hurt.”

Ben took the kettle and peered into it.

“Well, hurry up before it gets cold!” said Rapunzel, picking up two more kettles and handing one to Eugene.

Eugene took his and began to drink. “You're right. This IS quite good. Not that I've had it cold, mind you.”

Ben took a sip.

“That's disgusting!” said Heather.

“Actually,” said Ben, “it's not unlike when you accidentally cut the inside of your mouth while doing something really physical.”

Ali looked at her husband in horror.

“There's plenty for everyone,” said Rapunzel. “I suggest you all at least try it before making pronouncements about how gross it is.”

Everyone looked at everyone else. Then Howl picked up a kettle.

“You are not serious,” said Sophie.

“You're the one who's been encouraging people to drink this.”

“Only when they need it! Besides,” she said with a slight smirk, “in Eugene's case, I mostly just wanted to see if he would do it.”

Eugene sporfled his blood and Rapunzel nearly did the same. “What?!” said Eugene. “You mean I _didn't_ 'T have to drink blood and eat raw organ meat?!”

Sophie giggled. “Not really, no. But it _did_ help and _was_ beneficial and I do _not_ see you complaining about it otherwise.” She turned back to Howl, who'd taken a sip. She raised an eyebrow.

“They're right. It's not bad at all. You should try it,” he said, handing her the kettle.

She peered at it. After a moment, she gingerly took a sip. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“You see?” said Rapunzel. “This is a perfect illustration of how the _idea_ of eating something like this is far worse than actually doing it. Bottoms up!” She raised her own kettle and drank. The others either did the same, or passed it around until it was all gone.

“I...” said Lettie, “I do not believe we did that.”

“I don't believe I didn't throw up,” said Heather.

“Me neither,” said Ali.

“Now for the organs!” said Rapunzel.

Harold turned to Liesel. “What was that about our daughter being a normal girl?”

“She IS a normal girl,” said Liesel quietly.

Harold looked over at Rapunzel, who was now up to her elbows in bear guts. “ _That's_ normal? I'm still not convinced she's still human.”

“Daddy!” said Rapunzel in exasperation. “Do we _have_ to have this discussion _again?_ I'm just as human as you are!”

“Um....”

“Is someone with six fingers any less human than you or Mama?”

“Well...no.”

“Then what's the problem?! Just because my extra appendages are...unique...why does it make any difference!?”

“Appendages?” said Luke.

“It's complicated,” said Rapunzel as she extracted the liver and began to cut pieces off of it. “Liver anyone?”

No one moved.

“Oh, don't tell me none of you eat cow or chicken livers.”

“We do,” said Larry, “but....” His voice trailed off.

Rapunzel raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Larry sighed and put out a hand. “I don't believe I'm doing this either.” He accepted the piece of liver, popped it into his mouth and chewed. Rapunzel did the same.

“It's good, isn't it? Slimy, yet satisfying, don't you think?” said Rapunzel cheerily.

“You know,” said Larry, “if I didn't know this was bear liver....”

His family looked at each other.

Ben looked at Sophie. “Do you think I need more?”

“It would not hurt.”

He sighed and also took a piece. “This is better than squirrel, too,” he said after a few chews.

“Are you _sure_ we shouldn't be cooking this?” said Ginny.

“It's fine,” said Rapunzel evenly as she cut off more pieces and placed them in waiting hands.

Ben started closing and opening his left eyelid in a particularly odd way. Sophie noticed.

“Ben, is something wrong?” she asked.

“Naw,” he said. “It's just...weird.”

“If you feel any discomfort, or anything out of the ordinary, I need to know immediately. Otherwise, please do not do things that make me think you are. Do _not_ underestimate the complexity of the situation. That is especially relevant to your being a physician.”

“Yes, doctor,” he said.

“I am serious.”

“So am I. I'd...kind of like to keep this,” he indicated the regrown eye.

They finished off the liver, then moved on to the kidneys, spleen and heart. When they'd consumed that, all hands were on deck skinning the bear, carving off meat and laying it out on the nearby rock. When it had all been arranged, Rapunzel asked them all to stand back while she dried it, which took about an hour. Then they divided the meat and continued, pausing at Asa Lake for water and to wash the mess off of their hands.

“I'd sure be interested to know how you did that,” said Larry, indicating the drying operation.

“I'm sure you would,” said Rapunzel as she turned to head up the trail.

*****

Howl took point on the approach to the saddle south of Noble Lake. Clouds had been building and he needed to scan for electrical activity. He stopped at the top of the ridge next to a cattle gate and motioned for everyone but Eugene and Rapunzel to pass him. He was hoping he wouldn't have to explain it. They were to wait five minutes before continuing.

Howl looked back up the ridge after the rest of them had passed over it. He saw Eugene and Rapunzel crest the top and then, sure enough, ZAP! The Hunts gasped. They all took cover in the trees on the south-west side of the lake where there was plenty of flat space. The lightning strikes tapered off as Eugene and Rapunzel descended the ridge and had stopped altogether by the time they'd reached the others.

Eugene and Rapunzel walked up and took off their packs without a word. Rapunzel managed a slight and timid smile.

“So what was that about appendages?” said Ali after they'd all sat down to munch on their freshly-acquired bear meat.

“She...uh...” began Harold.

“Daddy, I've had extra...stuff...since the day I was born.”

“Yes, but you were...”

“What? Smaller? Cuter? Less powerful?”

“I don't know. It just...bothers me and I don't know why.”

“Then don't think about it.”

“I can't not think about it.”

“Of course you can. Eugene doesn't, do you?” she addressed this last to her husband.

“Not usually,” he said with a shrug. “And certainly not when we....” He cleared his throat and left it at that.

Sophie sporfled. “Your Highness, please! I am quite sure we do not need to think about that.”

“Oh, I _know_ we don't need to think about that,” said Harold with a roll of the eyes.

“It's not as if we don't have...regular reminders anyway,” said Howl.

“Howl,” said Sophie, “if you get any more incorrigible....”

Howl raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I give up!” Sophie said, flustered. “I really do not know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me and I make you glow?”

She blushed, then rolled her eyes and kissed him soundly. She glanced over at the Hunts, who were pretending not to hear the conversation, then back at her husband. “You forgot to deactivate the translation spell, didn't you?” she said accusatively.

Howl shrugged. “Um...oops?”

The Hunts still said nothing, though they were clearly curious. The Fellowship were surprised, but impressed by their new friends' continued patient courtesy.

“Huh,” said Ben. That was the extent of anyone's response.

Without warning, Ben picked up a handful of snow, packed it into a loose ball, and threw it at Eugene. It hit him square in the back. He raised an eyebrow, walked over to another part of the nearby snowfield and returned fire, hitting Ben in the lower abdomen. Soon, everyone was involved.

Each combatant had their own style. The Hunts had copious amounts of experience with snow and they packed their snowballs with skill, aiming them with precision. The three Ingarians had no idea what they were doing and were largely ineffective. Liesel had never been in a snowball fight and Harold hadn't been since his youth, but they both seemed to be passable at it. Neil held his own. Howl used his formidable working knowledge of Newtonian mechanics to both aim and dodge well, making him arguably the most effective of all of them on either side. Eugene quickly went into combat mode and was nearly as good as Howl—he moved around more than the rest of them combined. Rapunzel's good upper-body strength gave her throws considerable force, although her aim was mediocre at best—her defense, however, was impenetrable and consisted of focused heat which reduced each incoming snowball to harmless water and steam before it had closed to within a meter of her.

The fight began with the Hunts versus the Fellowship, then later reformed to men versus women. This went on for the better part of an hour. In the end, it was generally agreed that the Hunts won the first engagement and that the women won the second, despite protests that Rapunzel was cheating.

Ben blinked his eye again. “Uh, Sophie? It's feeling...weird and there's a fuzzy spot.”

Sophie walked him back over to the trees, sat him down, placed a hand on his forehead and looked into his eye. “You have something growing inside the vitreous humor and the lens is deforming,” she said in English, still struggling with the language. Howl walked up to his wife, placed his hand on her shoulder and nodded to her, indicating that the translation field was still active.

Ben sighed. “Am I going to lose that eye after all?”

“Not necessarily. This comes with the territory. Regenerating organs is complicated and there are always...complications.”

“Complications?” said Ali. “What sort of complications?”

“Think of it this way. I repaired your eye in an hour. It took several months to form in the first place. Let us see what I can do. Oh, and this might burn or sting...or both.” She placed her other hand over his eye and began to mutter. Ben winced. “This is interesting,” she said after a minute. “It seems your eye has changed shape, although I am not sure why. We have two options. I can force it back to its original configuration, or I can give you telescopic vision.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “What kind of magnification can I expect and would be the consequences?”

“Five times, maybe ten. You would have to adjust to it and you would be disoriented for a while. Also, I would have to adjust the structure of your occipital lobe, since the brain is not designed for that. It would basically require a total redesign.”

“And then you'd have to completely rebuild it from the ground up,” said Ben, a grave tone in his voice, followed by a deep exhale.

“Yes...and it sounds like you know what that would involve. Now, your eye is already drifting in that direction, but without interference, it will just stay cloudy and barely functional like that...no thanks to entropy. It is your choice and while you need not decide now, you _must_ do so before we part ways at Ebbetts Pass.”

“Can I sleep on it?”

“Yes.”

“I'll do that.”

“And discuss it with _me_ ” said Ali in a slightly irritated tone.

“Yes, of course, Babe,” he said, then leaned up to kiss his wife.

*****

Eugene, Rapunzel, and Sophie were all up a bit before dawn, just as the sky was lightening. The surface of Noble Lake was mirror-flat, perfectly reflecting the sky. A few stars were still visible and the eastern horizon was beginning to go from blue to yellow-orange. It was hard to tell where the lake surface stopped and the sky began. Rapunzel found it strikingly beautiful and she wondered to herself if the Bifrost in Asgaard looked anything like that. If only she could go there!

After their sun-bath, Rapunzel went down to the lake and caught a few of the brook trout planted there by the Department of Fish and Game. She employed the same procedure she always used for fish: boiling the brain, waiting for the fish to rise to the surface, then wading out and scooping it up. She persuaded everyone to at least try it raw, which, following the previous day's bear incident, was not a hard sell. She wasn't surprised that the Hunts had heard of, and tried, sushi. Larry told Rapunzel that her decidedly unconventional method of catching fish was sure to be in violation of California State angling regulations. On the other hand, there was practically no possibility of it being listed as one of the illegal means of angling for trout, so they all decided to adopt a private “don't ask, don't tell” policy about it.

The Hunts decided to light a fire for oatmeal and Tang. For reasons that evaded them, they seemed to be having trouble with it. Rapunzel took pity on them. Against what Eugene was sure to consider better judgment, she glanced over, looked at the wood, and it promptly burst into flame. Rapunzel could tell they were trying very hard not to ask questions and if their brainstem activity was any indication, she'd say they were about ready to explode...metaphorically, of course.

They were all still in the middle of breakfast when four hikers walked by, probably having camped at Asa Lake and risen early that morning. Rapunzel hailed them in her typically perky fashion. One of them took one look at her and panicked, much like they would have had they come face-to-face with a sasquatch. They quickly moved on and Rapunzel could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Eugene came over and took her in his arms.

“It's not fair, Eugene,” she said through the tears. “They...they don't even know me, but they look at me like I'm a...a monster.” The tears increased and Eugene held her closer. He didn't say anything, just held her and allowed her to let it out.

Harold held Liesel's hand as they watched, both wanting desperately to soothe their daughter's pain, but reminding themselves that it was Eugene's responsibility.

When Rapunzel had calmed down, Eugene pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. “Honey,” he said, “I'll admit your powers can be a bit frightening at times.” She looked like she was about to cry again and Eugene kissed her tenderly. “You are, without a doubt, the most charming, witty, intelligent, funny, adorable young lady I've ever met. That's the honest-to-God truth...and don't you ever forget it, alright?”

She nodded and he kissed her again.

“Don't worry, Princess,” said Howl, “people here are just as paranoid as people in Corona. They just deal with it differently.”

Rapunzel raised an eyebrow, half-glared at Howl, but didn't say anything.

Eugene stayed close to his wife, even after they'd broken camp and resumed their hike.

Ben still hadn't decided whether or not he wanted to undergo Sophie's proposed procedure. As the day wore on, it was clear to all that his eye was giving him more and more trouble. He was having an increasing amount of difficulty with depth-perception, which in turn had an increasingly deleterious effect on his ability to negotiate the trail, despite the not-so-demanding nature of the tread between Noble Lake and Ebbetts Pass.

By the time they'd reached the trailhead, at mile 1064, Ben had had enough. He'd decided to undergo the procedure, despite being visibly unsettled by the idea. Rapunzel, on the other hand, could tell by his brain activity that he was absolutely terrified, even if he didn't show it much. That he was willing to choose the surgery over simply enduring a failed eye spoke volumes about his values on such things. They took a break and shared elevenses while they formulated a plan. They agreed that the Fellowship would continue to Echo Lake. In the meantime, Ben would rest up and eat plenty of protein. While Sophie didn't necessarily need to remind Ben that he was preparing for major surgery, she did so anyway.

*****

Nearly ten trail-miles later, Rapunzel watched her family disappear one by one through a low gap at the upper end of the spur trail to Raymond Lake. A small creek flowed from a cleft at the eastern end of what Neil said was the terminal moraine of a long-vanished glacier. The smells of juniper and coyote mint filled the still-warm, late-afternoon air. Rapunzel plucked a sprig of sagebrush and held it to her nose, enjoying its pungent fragrance.

Rapunzel crested the rise and paused, a broad mile creeping across her face. Eugene stepped up beside her. A small lake, about the size of Noble, lay in another glacial tarn. Its surface was half in shadow. The half still in sunlight descended into a deep sapphire color toward its center. Walls of rough lava rose abruptly from the far side, ending in jagged fingers and chimneys. A large, rocky fell-field, still more than half-covered in snow, flowed in typically geologic slow-motion from Raymond Peak, visible as a high point up to the left. The northern shore of the lake and the lowermost reaches of the fell-field were forested with small lodgepole pines.

“Oh, Eugene!” she gasped. “It's beautiful!”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. “I bet you say that to _all_ the lakes,” he said teasingly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him in the way she did the day they met and looked him straight in the eyes. He didn't flinch...not that time. Instead, he moved to face her and placed both hands on her shoulders. _Now_ what was he doing, she wondered.

“Honey,” he said, “don't ever change.”

“What?” she said, not entirely sure what he meant by that, but she'd come to expect nothing but the best from her husband...well, most of the time.

“The very first thing I noticed about you on the day we met is that you don't hold back...with anything...ever. You have this unbridled enthusiasm about absolutely everything. It's intoxicating and contagious and I absolutely love that about you. You're so adorable.”

Rapunzel felt herself melt on the inside and it spread to her face, which broke into wide, warm smile. She let go of her poles, grabbed Eugene's pack straps, and pulled him down to kiss him soundly.

Sophie giggled behind her, but if Rapunzel noticed, she maintained her attention on kissing her husband. After a minute, she let him up for air.

“You do have a way with words,” she said, a tear coming to her eye.

They walked hand-in-hand the last hundred meters or so to the southern shore, Howl and Sophie right behind them, also hand-in-hand. Most of the others were already there, their packs propped up against logs and tree trunks. Lettie and Osric were sitting on a log, sharing some water and a much-needed rest after their aggressive climb up from Pennsylvania Creek. A small fire-ring formed a semi-circle in front of a huge boulder that would have dwarfed Maximus. Neil was arranging some firewood in it and giving Harold and Liesel some pointers.

Rapunzel walked up to them and peered inquisitively at it. Her parents looked up at her.

“We know what you're thinking,” said Harold before his daughter could say anything, “but your mother and I were thinking it would be nice to have an actual campfire for once.”

Liesel nodded in agreement.

Rapunzel gave them her cocked-eyebrow look and held it for a few moments. “An actual campfire?” she replied dubiously.

“Something's been missing,” said Liesel. “It hasn't completely felt like we've been camping.”

Rapunzel continued to hold her expression. “Seriously?” she said, her annoyance rapidly turning to amusement. “Mama, Daddy, we don't _have_ camping in our time! Where _do_ you get your ideas, anyway? And road-trips to neighboring kingdoms don't count!”

“I'm afraid the fault for that is mine,” said Neil. “Besides, most of us...okay, all of us...were thinking you might want a break from being our human stove, as it were.”

Rapunzel glared at him for a second, though she could feel her tension rapidly deflating. “You could have just asked,” she said. Then she sighed and let herself physically relax. “I'm sorry. I guess it's not important. It's just...I don't know.”

Eugene put an arm around her. She reveled in the strength she felt in it and, as usual, it made her feel better in ways she still had trouble identifying. She let him take her pack and he set it down by another log before removing his own.

After further discussion, they agreed that Rapunzel would have the evening and following morning off from fire duty, although she insisted on catching dinner. They invoked the DADT policy on her unconventional fishing technique and she returned later with several golden trout, a fish endemic to the Kern River watershed but planted in the cold waters of Raymond Lake by the DFG. Neil showed everyone how to kindle a fire the old-fashioned way, which Rapunzel found fascinating, despite having seen Eugene do it right after they met.

She had to admit that her husband was right, she really _did_ have an insatiable curiosity about and enthusiasm for practically everything. The more she thought about it, the more it occurred to her that everyone liked that about her. It gave her warm fuzzies and everyone would have noticed her glowing if they hadn't had their eyes on Neil's demonstration.

After a short while, they all sat on logs enjoying a dinner of fresh trout and a rehydrated stew. Rapunzel was thrilled that she didn't have to do much to convince everyone to eat some raw, even though they cooked most of it. She insisted that they, like the brookies in Noble Lake, the bass in Silverwood Lake and the rainbows at Whitewater, had a unique flavor. Eugene wasn't so sure about that, but Rapunzel insisted that they had a lot of time and a lot of water ahead of them and that she was going to make a raw-foodist out of him yet! He just laughed and kissed her.

For a while, they all stared wordlessly into the fire crackling within its stony confines. Rapunzel snuggled into Eugene's arms, enjoying his firm, but gentle, embrace. It made her glow. She carefully looked at everyone's brainstems. While she felt briefly guilty for what felt like spying, she saw that no one was at all alarmed about her glowing, which made her glow even more.

Harold broke the silence. “It's mesmerizing, isn't it,” he said. “No offense,” he added to his daughter.

“None taken, Daddy,” she said, having recovered from her previous apparent irritability over the whole fire thing. She'd blamed it on low blood sugar. “I have to admit, I've been missing the mesmerizing appearance of real fire, too. What I do is...well, it's an imitation, really.”

“How is what you do any less real?” said Howl. “Just because all our experience is with the pyro-chemical type of fire doesn't mean your kind of fire is insignificant. On the contrary, you're the first of your kind, so if anything, your fire is more real.”

Rapunzel sighed contentedly and snuggled up against her husband, who also started glowing. Everyone smiled warmly at everyone else, the familial feelings flowing like river eddies among them. After a while, everyone turned in, leaving the campfire to slowly burn down.

*****

The Fellowship paused at Wet Meadows Reservoir for second breakfast. It wasn't long before they were glad of having camped at Raymond Lake instead of pushing on the additional three miles. While there was copious flat, open space beneath the tree canopy, the mosquitoes were downright murderous, at least as bad as anywhere in the High Sierra. As before, the Ingarians and Rapunzel were largely unmolested, but the others were being eaten alive.

As the hours became days, Sophie became increasingly consumed by her preparations for Ben's surgery. Always her nose was pressed to the pieces of paper that contained her notes, furiously scribbling, erasing and scribbling some more, usually muttering under her breath in Ingarian. Rapunzel once stole a glance at Sophie's workings but, with the exception of several clear diagrams of an eye, the rest was filled with seemingly incomprehensible symbols. Rapunzel figured most of these to be Ingarian writing, although much of it could just as easily have been what she and Howl called spells—which were, as she'd come to learn, really nothing of the sort. The last two days before they reached Highway 50 near Echo Lake, Sophie barely took her eyes off of her notes, even while she was hiking. Sophie tripped over rocks and roots on a regular basis and Rapunzel was surprised her friend never completely lost her footing.

The last few hours before reaching their rendezvous point were spent in near-silence. With the exception of the occasional navigation-related questions—of which there were precious few on that part of the trail—and Sophie's intermittent mutterings, no one spoke a word.

*****

Larry was waiting at the trailhead. He wasn't expecting everyone to want to return to Dorrington with him, but he didn't object. Everyone lashed their gear to the top of Larry's Honda and they all piled in. The Coronans were particularly nervous about it, as they were still quite unfamiliar with what they still regarded as those “hell-spawned horseless conveyances,” as Liesel put it.

It was a tight squeeze and everyone agreed it was a good thing they were all in excellent physical shape, though it occurred to Rapunzel that back home, her people would _never_ understand the point of being skinny. Wives sat on their husbands' laps, which the husbands didn't mind at all. Howl said something about not getting pulled over, but neither he nor Larry bothered to explain it. The drive was a few hours long and they were all quite ready to be done with it by the time they reached Dorrington.

They climbed a set of stairs to the main entrance on the second floor. Rapunzel remembered reading about that as something done in Scandinavia. It still gave her weird feelings about her old tower and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Why, she wondered, did it seem like her past kept returning to haunt her?

Rapunzel noticed several things immediately upon entering. First, the interior reminded her a lot of the Snuggly Duckling—whole logs for beams, stuffed-and-mounted animals along the walls—but much better maintained and much better-lit. Second, Ben's amygdala was still going crazy—she made a mental note to mention it to Sophie. Third, Ginny had cooked up something that smelled wonderful. The Hunt matriarch identified it as spaghetti, though Rapunzel was quite sure it was wholly unlike what the Italians in her time called their dish of the same name. Liesel echoed the sentiment. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Rapunzel ate two-handed and Ben commented that he himself hadn't eaten like that, even when he was diving in Antarctica. That puzzled Rapunzel. _Who would GO to Antarctica at all_ , she thought, _let alone DO anything there?_

As dinner wound down, Ben told several bad jokes. Rapunzel was unsure if that was normal for him, but no one's reaction suggested otherwise. Only Howl and Neil understood any of the punchlines, however, which made everyone more uncomfortable than anyone figured should have been the case. Rapunzel was sure some of that had to do with the stress of Ben's impending surgery.

After dinner, Sophie went over her plan and everyone had a chance to look closely on what she'd been doing over the past few days. Everyone was impressed. Her papers showed a complete re-design of Ben's eye. Rapunzel was astonished. Everything was connected to everything else. A change in the eye shape meant a change to the socket, which meant impinging on the sinus cavities. There were changes to eye musculature and points of attachment, a larger opening in the rear of the socket for the larger optic nerve, rearrangement of the blood supply, adjustments to the interface between that and the standard one coming from the right eye, and remodeling of the occipital lobe's neural architecture. Just looking at that reminded Rapunzel of that strange Evolution idea she'd heard so many people discussing since her arrival in the twenty-first century. With all the complexity and balance and interconnectedness—and that was just for an eye--there was surely no way it could be true.

Ginny offered everyone a shower, which they all gratefully accepted. Then they spread out on the living room floor and the back deck. Sophie went downstairs to adjust Ben's neurochemistry so he could get some sleep before joining her own husband on the floor upstairs.

*****

Eugene, Rapunzel and Sophie stood out on the deck just before dawn. Only Eugene was shirtless. It was clear that the tall ponderosa pines that surrounded them would interfere with full solar exposure. Rapunzel was trying not to think about all the gloomy days that awaited them in the Washington Cascades. The sun had just cleared the obstructions to the east when Ben stepped out onto the deck to join them.

“Good morning, Ben,” said Sophie quietly.

“Hey,” he said in return.

“How are you feeling?” said Eugene.

“Okay, I guess,” said Ben with a shrug. “A little nervous, though.”

Rapunzel raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

Ben just shrugged again.

“Well, it _is_ surgery,” said Sophie. “It would be a _lot_ easier if you were a sun-bearer.”

“Can you make me one of those?”

Sophie looked at him for several moments before answering. “You know not what you ask,” she said flatly.

Eugene wasn't sure what to make of that. Perhaps there were some things about being a sun-bearer that neither he nor Rapunzel knew. He made a mental note to ask Sophie about it later.

“Uh....”

“Look!” Rapunzel interrupted him. She pointed to something off in the woods not far from the deck. It was a deer. Before Eugene could say anything, the animal twitched and fell over. She turned back to the others. “Breakfast!” she squealed before turning to trot across the deck and down the stairs.

Eugene rolled his eyes and Sophie pressed two fingers to her forehead and exhaled deeply. He looked at Ben. “Need a diversion?” he asked, jerking his head toward the deer.

“Sure.” He followed Eugene down the deck stairs and walked over to where Rapunzel was already kneeling over the deer.

“I'll cut here and here,” she said, pointing to two spots on the neck. “I'll drink from this one and you drink from that one.”

“Well,” said Sophie from the deck, “I suppose it would not hurt.”

Ben sighed. “Ali's going to think I've turned into a zombie.”

Rapunzel abruptly looked up at him and glared, a flicker of red briefly washing through her irises. “ _Don't_ say that!” she snapped. “Get ready.”

Ben knelt down. She made the first incision and he pressed his lips to the animal's neck and began to drink. Rapunzel did the same several inches away. After a few minutes, she was satisfied that they'd drained most of it and she came up for a breath, blood dribbling from her lips. “It really is best when it's still warm,” she said, standing up.

“Have you ever had it cold?” said Eugene.

“Uh...not really.” She shrugged, then quickly stepped over to Eugene and planted a juicy, bloody kiss on him.

“I'm still not sure I'm getting used to that,” he said.

“Neither am I,” said Ali from the deck above. There was something in her voice that Eugene didn't quite recognize, probably an unusual, but understandable mixture of emotions.

“Hey, Babe,” said Ben, his mouth smeared with deer blood.

“Ew!” said Ali in disgust. “How can you do that?”

He cocked his head.

“Oh, yeah, the bear.” She paused. “That was gross, too, you know.”

“I might be getting used to it. Besides, there's this surgery thing I'll be doing soon.” He was doing a valiant job of hiding his fear, but Rapunzel, Sophie, and even Eugene could see it flowing off of him like Vernal Falls.

They decided to cook the internal organs, despite Rapunzel's protests. By now, everyone else was up. Neil, Luke, Osric and Harold went to work carving up the deer. They wanted to make quick work of it before any of the neighbors noticed. An hour later, all the usable meat had been removed and everyone had eaten breakfast, which had consisted of deer-organ omelets with home-made salsa, guacamole and extra garlic, the latter of which gave the Ingarians violent hiccups. It took a while for those to subside.

In the meantime, Rapunzel went outside and burned up the remains of the deer. Larry objected on the grounds that it was well into forest fire season and therefore too dangerous. Rapunzel countered, offering the alternative of dealing with the smell of a soon-to-be-rotting carcass and the attention—and equally-unpleasant insects--it would likely draw. While Larry still objected, Rapunzel did it anyway, using an intense, bright-yellow flame that would quickly burn the carcass with a smokeless fire. Although she was able to quite neatly contain the heat, they weren't sure how to disguise the large scorched patch of bare earth upon which lay a brittle deer skeleton. When the ground had cooled sufficiently, she and Larry went back inside.

Sophie's and Lettie's hiccups had faded and they were ready to go to work. Ben wasn't quite sure he was ready to begin, but he insisted it was time. Sophie went over the procedure yet again. First, Howl would sound-proof the building as insurance. Then Sophie would deactivate most of his musculature below the neck, which would negate the need for the rest of them to hold him down. Next she would turn down his vocal cords. It would be a long procedure and it would go better if she weren't distracted by his screams all day. Then she'd turn off his gag reflex. There wasn't much she could do about the pain, however.

After that prep work, she'd first dismantle his eye, then re-build its framework to reflect the new configuration, but leave the ball partially deflated. Then she'd rearrange his skull around the eye, enlarging the socket, moving and reshaping the sinuses. After that, she'd fill the new eyeball, grow new optic nerve fibers and blood vessels and attach the new muscles. Finally, she'd reconfigure the optic nerve junctions, and reprogram the occipital lobe to use it and accept the alternate input. There wouldn't be much opportunity for breaks—except for the brief times when Sophie would turn off Ben's neurons so he could hydrate--and this would take all day, so she insisted everyone use the bathroom first.

“Are you _sure_ you want to do this?” said Ginny.

“You can still change your mind,” said Ali. “Either way, you know I'm not going anywhere.”

Ben squeezed his wife's hand and looked at his mother. “Yeah, I know. But I'm still doing it...even though it...” His voice trailed off.

“Scares you to death?” said Luke.

“Yeah,” said Ben.

With that, Ben lay down on a tarp in the living room and they got started. Lettie stood by with an LED flashlight and a small bucket of water. While Sophie did all of her work with her eyes closed, feeling everything empathically, she still needed the occasional visual and it always helped to keep things clean. Since Sophie would be both performing the operation and monitoring Ben's vitals, Rapunzel would observe both of their body heat in case there was something Sophie missed. The others took rotation standing by in case they were needed. Heather mainly kept Jacob occupied and out of the way, the others helping her when out of stand-by rotation. Ali just sat there holding Ben's hand and trying not to cringe much, or cry at all—although Ben was far too distracted to notice much beyond the searing pain in his head.

*****

Twelve hours later, everyone was psychologically exhausted, but the procedure was finished and Sophie was turning on the last of Ben's neuroprocesses. She declared it a preliminary success.

When he could move again, he sat up, breathing heavily, and put his hand to his head, not quite savoring the dull throb that was slowly receding. “I will _never_ complain about stubbing my toe, or being stung by bees, or having gastroenteritis _ever_ again!” Everyone resisted the urge to ask him how he was feeling.

“Um, Ben?” said Ali.

“Yeah, Babe?”

“You look... _weird!_ ”

“What do you mean?”

“Your new eye's bigger than your old one and it makes your face look lopsided. That, and the tissue around it looks a little inflamed.”

Sophie turned his head toward her. “You are right. Let us see what we can do about that, shall we?” She put a hand up to his eye. “This might burn a little.” Ben flinched slightly. After a few moments, Sophie removed her hand and peered at him. “Yes, that is much better.”

“I suppose we should keep an eye on that, right?” said Ben. That brought a few groans.

They all grabbed a snack and then walked down the road to Snowshoe Thompson Lake, which was actually a small recreational pond. Ben wore an eye-patch on the way. When they arrived, they all faced across the lake toward the meadowy wetland on the far side, a distance of at least eighty meters. The sinking sun hung over the pines to the west, as though readying to impale itself upon them.

Howl raised the translation field again to facilitate communication. “I will now remove the eye patch and give you some instructions,” said Sophie. She spoke in Ingarian, though everyone heard her words in their own language...English, German, and Ingarian. “I will monitor you. Larry will confirm your observations through those field glasses of his.” She indicated the small binoculars Larry carried.

Ben nodded.

“Now, your eye will probably have to adjust and it might be stiff at first while it works out the kinks, as it were. It is best to regard it as an atrophied muscle.” She reached up, placed one hand on his head and removed the patch with the other.

Ben blinked as his eye focused, responding to the sudden increase in light. Sophie gave him instructions, focusing here and there on things above and below the water and on things near and far. He answered questions, compared observations with Larry while Sophie took notes. She'd managed to give him magnification near 100x and she was eager to test it at the micro end. Larry took a few samples of pond water to view under their microscope back home. After ten minutes, Ben jumped a bit.

“What is it?” said Sophie.

“Everything briefly looked all...shimmery.”

“Did warm things look bright and cool things look dim?”

“Um...yeah...I think so. How'd you know?”

“Your new eye is substantially larger than the old one to accommodate the additional lens apparatus. So the retina has more surface area. Since not all of that area was needed for the usual compliment of rods and cones, or even for the additional ones needed for the telescopic vision to work, I added some extra cells that respond to wavelengths longer than five micrometers.”

Ben's eyes widened a little. “I can see infrared?”

Sophie nodded. “That also means you effectively have night vision, too.”

“Cool!”

“I must make some more adjustments, then you will be able to essentially turn it on and off. Otherwise, I think it would be a bit disorienting.”

“You have _that_ right,” muttered Rapunzel.

They looked at her. “I don't so much _see_ heat as _perceive_ it. It's hard to explain...suffice it to say it can be distracting. And, yes, it's always...on, as you say.”

“Oh,” said Sophie, returning her attention to Ben, “and I polarized your new lens, too...the outermost one. You will not be able to see the upper end of the visible spectrum out of that eye very well, though.”

Ali scowled at Sophie. “What _else_ did you do to him while he was laying on the floor attempting to writhe in agony?” she said in annoyance.

Sophie raised an eyebrow at Ali, then turned back to Ben. “I reorganized the cells in your other eyelid to make them bioluminescent...so you will essentially have your own headlamp. I corrected that minor color-blindness, as you may have noticed. I also started the process of eliminating your reaction to urushiol...beginning tomorrow or the next day and for the next week, you will feel like you have been chewed by a xantujak...uh...I think you might call them velociraptors. I repaired all of your cochlear hairs, cleared up some impending melanoma, triggered apoptosis in some pancreatic cancer cells, and in another week or so, you will be able to digest cellulose and deal with, oh, maybe half of the known alkaloids, including everything in the buttercup family. I also wrote a...” she looked at Neil. “What is that computer thing you do where you write a small program to do a really big job?”

“A macro?” he said helpfully.

“Yes, thank-you. I wrote a macro to restore your chromosome caps and repair all your genetic errors...you sure do have a lot of those.” She frowned. “And you are welcome,” she added flatly before continuing. “It will take some adjustment to get used to your new eye, though. In some respects, it will be a little like having a...bionic implant.”

“Wait,” said Ali, still noticeably unsettled. “You did _all_ that?”

“It's alright, Babe,” interrupted Ben.

“No, it's not alright! We never discussed any of that, aside from the eye...upgrade.”

“You are right,” said Sophie. “There were some things I did not know would need done until I was deep into the design process. Some of those changes naturally led to some of the ones upon which I've already enumerated. Some only became evident during the procedure. Others...” She sighed lightly. “I...got a little carried away.”

“A little?” said Ginny.

“Wait,” said Howl, “you performed the Nidularion procedure on a human, are you crazy?”

“I performed it on you and Neil, did I not?”

“Yes, but that was different! You and Nalaya are Ingarian! You know full well what happens when humans and Ingarians....” Howl's voice trailed off as he noticed Sophie frowning at the Hunts.

“Human? Ingarian?” said Heather.

Sophie looked back at Howl. “You forgot to turn off the translation spell again, did you not?”

Howl shrugged sheepishly and Sophie rolled her eyes.

“Um...” began Larry, “...we really don't mean to intrude...”

“But you've been indulging us, smiling, nodding and letting us do unspeakable things to your son,” said Harold, “and you feel you deserve some answers.”

“You would be absolutely correct,” added Liesel.

“At the risk of overstepping my bounds,” said Eugene, “it seems to me we're verging on a discussion of, shall we say, classified information. To me, that constitutes a security breach. I know, I know, that's not why I'm out here, but it's still my job. I recommend we continue this conversation back at the Hunt residence.”

“Good idea,” said Ben. “Besides, I'm suddenly feeling _really_ hungry!”

There were murmurs of assent. With that, they set off for the Hunts' house.

*****

They had another good dinner, mostly the venison from that morning, wild onions and watercress, with Douglas fir needle tea. Rapunzel was astonished to learn that she could eat the plant-life too. Larry admonished her not to try it without a thorough knowledge of ethnobotany, or at least a solid idea of what is and isn't edible. Fortunately, there were parallels between western North American flora and that of Europe, especially where European weeds had volunteered. Dinner continued with a round of local folk tales.

After a dessert of wild blackberry crisp, they all went out onto the porch. Howl left the translation spell active, again to facilitate communication. Now that everyone was more or less relaxed, the women of the Fellowship had a little more time to fawn over Jacob. Rapunzel and Lettie kept stealing knowing glances at their husbands.

“So,” said Ali to Howl, “what was that about humans and...Ingarians? What's the Nidu...larion procedure? And what _else_ haven't you told us?”

“Sophie can read DNA,” said Howl.

“What?” said Heather.

“How do you _read_ DNA?” said Luke to Sophie. “Don't you need a sequencer to do that?”

“Not when you are an empathic healer. Besides, I would be unable to use the cursed thing anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I generate an electromagnetic field strong enough to disrupt sensitive electronics. All sun-bearers do.”

“What's a sun-bearer?” said Ali.

Howl took a deep breath and briefly explained how some people could literally hold pieces of stellar matter in their quantum matrices and how that manifested itself, including luminescence and Rapunzel's pyrokinesis. He told the Hunts about Sophie, Lettie and Osric being extraterrestrials, how that related to the capacity to use magic., and how magic was really centered around an ability to manipulate dark energy. He summarized the destruction of Ingary and the exodus of its surviving people. He described the Nidularion procedure, why he, Neil, the rest of his family, and all the Ingarian diaspora had undergone it, and how that related to what Sophie had done to Ben. He also told them that the Fitzherbert party was from the past and were the Royal family of Corona. While he'd abridged, summarized and compressed, relying on some of the principles he and his had shared on the trail, and while he'd asked the Hunts to hold their questions for the time being, it still took the better part of an hour.

“I realize this all strains credulity,” said Howl as he finished, “but given what you yourselves have witnessed, I think you know I'm telling the truth.”

“Whoa,” said Luke.

“You do, of course, realize we could spend weeks, months even, on Q and A,” said Ginny.

“Years, more like,” said Howl. “But, yes, this is all extremely complicated. Ingarians approach magic...holistic physics...from a much different point of view than humans approach conventional physics. In many ways, an intuitive understanding is better than an academic one. People like Sophie and Rapunzel are less likely to try and over-analyze things. We humans keep trying to figure out _how_ things work, rather than simply accepting _that_ they work. In that sense, the scientific method is both a blessing and a curse.”

Ben stood up and walked over to the edge of the porch and peered out into the night. “You're right. I _can_ see in the dark! Maybe it _was_ worth the pain.” He stood there for a few moments, then turned and stepped over to the gathering circle of chairs. He glanced at his wife, looked her up and down, then raised an eyebrow. “Okay, it was _definitely_ worth the pain.”

Rapunzel looked at them both and rolled her eyes. “Oh, you two,” she said, making a shooing gesture, “go...go start someone!”

“Well put!” said Howl. Sophie rolled her eyes and blushed. Then she reached up and thoroughly mussed Howl's hair. Howl protested until Sophie shut him up with a sound kiss.

Ben and Ali blushed too, then got up, rushed inside hand-in-hand, and disappeared down the stairs.

When they'd gone, Eugene looked at his wife. “Body heat, right?”

Rapunzel nodded vigorously. “And how! Oh, and, um...she's ovulating.”

Liesel leaned over to her daughter. “Elsa, dear,” she said, “princesses shouldn't discuss such things in mixed company.”

Sophie put a hand up to her mouth and tittered. “Howl, I do believe you are a bad influence on our dear Rapunzel. It is a good thing I love you!”

“Sure,” said Howl indulgently, “blame it on me.”

Rapunzel shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, “but I just thought it worth mentioning.”

Larry and Ginny just looked at each other.

“Will Ben be able to see what Rapunzel does?” asked Larry, changing the subject.

“It is unlikely,” said Sophie, regaining her composure. “He will see fluctuations in surface heat much like the rest of us do while looking at coals in a fireplace. It is different for Rapunzel.”

“And it takes a _lot_ of practice to work with it effectively,” added Rapunzel.

“Shall we have some music?” said Liesel, changing the subject again.

“Sure!” said Ginny.

Several people got up, went into the living room where everyone's packs had been put and retrieved various small musical instruments.

Neil began with an American folk song. It sounded odd in his Welsh accent, but somehow worked:

My mama was the cold north wind, my daddy was the son  
Of a railroad man from west of hell where the trains don't even run  
I've never heard the whistle of south-bound freight or the singin' of its grindin' wheels  
No, I never did no wanderin', never did no wanderin', never did not wanderin' after all

Then Harold and Liesel shared a German folk song. After that, Lettie and Sophie sang a few Ingarian songs while Osric played the accompanying tune on a tin whistle. Their music followed an odd octatonic scale, but was quite pretty, and the language's phonology was fluid and pleasant. It made Rapunzel's hair stand on end. When that had closed, she began to sing her own lullaby:

Flower gleam and grow, let your power shine  
Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine  
Heal what has been hurt, change the fates' design  
Bring back what once was mine, what once was mine

“Um...” Larry's voice trailed off.

Rapunzel opened her eyes. The Hunts were staring at her.

“You're glowing!” Heather blurted.

Rapunzel held up a hand, glanced at it and shrugged. “Oh...yes...that,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I told you so,” said Howl. They gawked even more.

“That...doesn't bother you?” said Heather.

“Not really, no,” said Rapunzel. “My hair used to glow. It's a long story, but suffice it to say I grew up with it, so it's not a big deal for me.”

Something caught Luke's attention. He glanced over at the back door and his eyes went wide. Then others followed his gaze. There stood Ben and Ali, both looking more than a bit tousled.

“Ahem?” said Ali in a more-than-slightly annoyed tone, pointing at her husband, who was faintly glowing himself with a blue-green hue.

“Oh, dear,” said Sophie. “That was not supposed to happen. It must be propagating through your lymph system.”

“What _else_ isn't supposed to happen?” Ali demanded.

“We will not know until it does.”

“Until it does? You were supposed to rebuild his eye, not turn him into....”

“A god?” said Rapunzel helpfully.

“What?”

“Well, if I can be a goddess, which _some_ people here insist,” Rapunzel elbowed Eugene in the ribs, “then Ben here can be a god...lower-case 'g' of course.”

“That isn't very reassuring,” said Ali flatly.

“Oh, come now. Don't you find that glow just the least bit...you know,” she said with a jaunty shrug.

“Well...” Ali's demeanor changed as her apparent indignation passed. She fluttered her eyelashes and blushed a little. Then she sighed. “I'm sorry. It was just...unexpected...all of it. But you're right. It _is_ a bit...you know.”

“A bit?” said Howl.

Sophie turned to her husband. “Oh, so _that_ is why you like seeing me glow,” she teased.

“Well...it's also right-shiny.”

Sophie blushed. “Aw...you say the sweetest things.” Then she leaned over and kissed him.

Eugene leaned over to his own wife. “If I call you right-shiny, will you kiss me too?”

Rapunzel tittered. “I'll kiss you anyway, silly!” Then she did just that.

That started a round of kissing among all the couples present.

“Arg,” muttered Neil. “And here I am without my fiancee.”

Ali abruptly grabbed Ben and dove back into the house. He followed, initially off-balance, with a definite “oof!” and they disappeared once again down the stairs.

“I...um...think maybe we should stay up here for a while,” said Luke. There were murmurs of assent.

“More singing?” said Ginny. There were more murmurs of assent and once more everyone shared some more songs, many of them filks with hiking-related lyrics.

After a while, Ben and Ali reappeared and sat down next to each other, Ben still glowing a little.

“Sophie,” said Ali, “I forgive you. It's still weird and I still wish you'd been a little less...initiative. I'm still going to be adjusting to all of this, at least as much as he is. But you're right...I like it.” She shivered a little with a bit of a giggle. Ben just shrugged and blushed a little, which was barely visible behind the fading glow of his skin.

They sang a few more songs from their wide and varied collective repertoire.

“It's getting kind of late,” said Larry. “It's been a _very_ long day. Maybe we should turn in?”

“Oh!” said Neil. “I almost forgot. I really should be getting home.”

“Can it wait until morning?” said Ginny.

“Well, considering that it _is_ morning back in Wales...not really, no.”

“Are you sure?” said Ben.

“Well...I could use some sleep.”

“Good!”

At that, everyone lined up to brush their teeth, a habit to which Harold, Liesel, Eugene and Rapunzel still hadn't quite adapted. Then one by one, each couple retired to their patch of floor and drifted off to sleep.

*****

Breakfast was pancakes and eggs. Larry had to go out for more supplies. Not only did they have a _lot_ more mouths to feed, but his own family had high metabolisms already, his guests were hikers, two of them through-hikers, Rapunzel the Firewalker, and Ben still burning through calories and protein recovering from his ordeal the day before. Howl sent Neil back home to Wales via an obliging door. Sophie wanted to stay for another day to observe Ben and Howl stayed with her. Lettie and Osric stayed to be with Sophie. Harold and Liesel stayed because only Howl knew how to send them back to their own time and the temporal anchor was in Wales. Eugene and Rapunzel stayed because they were enjoying themselves.

“How do you do that anyway? I gather it's not like what Ben apparently...does,” said Heather to Rapunzel.

“You mean the glowy thing or the body heat thing?”

“Both,” said Heather, still wrangling Jacob.

Rapunzel shrugged. “I don't really know,” she said, “I mean, beyond what Howl was saying about it yesterday. I glow when I'm happy and content. I can feel it happening, but I have no idea how to control it. The sun-blood lets me sense heat. I can always feel it, just like you and I can always hear, whether or not we're trying, and I can focus on certain things and sense them better. Other than that, I had to learn to control all the other things it lets me do...like when I killed those animals and burned up that deer carcass.”

“What _are_ you?”

“I still don't know _what_ she is,” Harold interjected, which brought a sigh and a roll of the eyes from Rapunzel, “but I _do_ know _who_ she is.” He paused, choking up slightly. “She's my daughter. Always has been, always will be. I've just been too distracted by the changes to her and too bull-headed about it to see clearly. Will you forgive me?” he said to his daughter.

“Oh, Daddy!” squealed Rapunzel. She trotted over and threw her arms around him. “You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.” They exchanged an embrace and then she returned to her seat, glowing a little.

Luke sniffed at a tear. “Softie,” Heather teased, then handed their son to him. “Your turn.”

Luke gladly took the boy.

“I'm a firewalker,” said Rapunzel to Heather, “ _the_ Firewalker, to be precise.”

“Rapunzel is still human,” Sophie clarified. “What happened to her is quite complicated and...well,” she said, turning to Rapunzel, “I am really not entirely sure you have not been fundamentally...changed, to be perfectly honest. You are difficult to read.” She glanced at Eugene. “Yes, Eugene, you are still human, too, do not panic. Truly, I do not understand why that is so important to you all. Is not _who_ we are more important than _what_ we are? Do not worry about it so much. Is it not enough that we are who and what we are? Why do the...labels...matter?”

Everyone looked at everyone else and a round of shrugs ensued.

“Where does that leave Ben?” said Ali, clearly concerned.

“Ben is Ben,” said Sophie. “Otherwise, he is still human, if you must call him something.”

“What about this?” said Ben, pointing to his new eye.

“It is an edition.”

“You re-wrote my genetic code.”

“No, I repaired it. At least it will be, once the Nidularion procedure has run its course.”

“What about the glowy thing?”

“That is an unexpected side-effect.”

Ben and Ali looked at each other, both thinking about last night.

“So...what _other_ possible side-effects might there be?” said Ali.

“We'll know soon enough,” muttered Rapunzel in a sing-songy voice. They all looked at her. She tittered.

Howl grinned. “Apparently, Ali's ovulating.”

Ben sporfled his orange juice all over the deck. “Really?!”

“It's way too early to know if anything will come of it anyway,” said Heather.

“Are you sure?”

“I could take a look,” Sophie offered.

“Oh, no!” said Ali defensively. Ben gave his wife a plaintive look. “Oh, alright,” said Ali resignedly, “but don't... _do_ anything, okay?”

Sophie nodded, stepped over, put a hand on Ali's forehead and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she spoke. “Well...I do not sense any...wait...yes, there it is! You have...started someone...as our dear Rapunzel so elegantly put it.” She opened her eyes. “That was fast for humans! It is still too early to know if it will attach, though.”

Ben nodded his head vigorously. Ali jerked her head away from Sophie. “Ben! No!” Ben gave her a doe-eyed look and stuck out his lower lip in a particularly pouty way. Ali looked at him, her resolve rapidly disintegrating, then she rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily. “Alright, fine! Give it a nudge. I don't believe I'm doing this.” She sat up straight again, Sophie placed her hand back on Ali's head and started muttering under her breath. After a couple of minutes, she stopped and removed her hand.

“There. It is implanted in a good location. You must do the rest.”

Ali exhaled again. Ben was grinning from ear to ear. His new eye, being half again the size of his other one, made the whole thing look quite lop-sided. Ali somehow found this endearing. “But if he or she turns out...weird...I'm holding _you_ ,” she pointed at Sophie, “personally responsible.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. Rapunzel cleared her throat. Eugene cocked his head. Ben frowned.

“Oh, I didn't mean it like that,” Ali moaned in an apologetic fashion. “It's just that this is all so....” Her voice trailed off.

“Overwhelming?” said Rapunzel.

“Frightening?” said Eugene.

“Intense?” said Ben.

Ali looked from one of them to another. “How would any of you know how I'm feeling?”

“Ali,” said Eugene, “it took near-death experiences to make us all the way we are. Sophie...Liesel...Rapunzel...me...all four of us could have died...should have died. On top of that, Rapunzel was kidnapped as a baby and didn't return for eighteen years. If Sophie hadn't intervened, she and Howl would have died during their wedding. Then there was the...loss...of Ingary itself. So, yeah, certain things have been kind of traumatic for all of us.”

“We tell you this,” said Sophie, “because you feel overwhelmed and we understand because we have been there. You will adapt. You resist because it...what is that expression...scares the snot out of you.”

Ali exhaled heavily. “I guess. Maybe it would have been easier in some ways if Ben had taken the...er...pirate route.”

“Arrrr!” said Ben in a particularly piratey manner.

Ali bapped him playfully on the back of the head and briefly snickered. “Silly!” Ben leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “It's just that now there's so much uncertainty, both with Ben and now with...” she looked down at her own mid-section, “...with the baby.”

“I know what you mean,” said Sophie evenly.

“You do?”

“When I was pregnant with Aeden, I was scared the whole time. I am Ingarian and Howl is human and our DNA is barely compatible. I had to...genetically engineer our son.”

“Is he...?”

“Oh, no, he is fine...better than fine...the most beautiful thing we have ever seen. What surprised us is that he, too, bears star-fire. He also has potential to be a powerful mage.”

Ali blinked. “You mean my baby might have huge eyes and bioluminescent skin?!”

“That is highly unlikely.”

“Highly unlikely? This whole _thing_ is highly unlikely!”

“Think of it this way,” said Ben, “he or she would be an excellent tracker, really useful in the lab and it'll be really easy to find him or her in the dark!”

Ali frowned.

“See?” said Rapunzel, nudging Eugene. “I told you being glowy was highly useful.”

“Yes, but it's also highly difficult to control.”

“Then I'm glad I'm not bioluminescent,” said Ali.

“Are you sure?” said Ben.

Ali sighed. “But if I start glowing....”

“The family that glows together stays together?” said Ben helpfully.

Ali raised an eyebrow.

“Is he always like this?” said Eugene.

“More or less,” said Luke.

“Look at it this way,” said Ali, “I could ask him to unicycle across the polar ice cap, living off of rancid walrus blubber and he'd be all over it like white on rice,” said Ali.

“Let's do it!” said Ben enthusiastically.

“See?”

“You know,” said Howl to Eugene and Rapunzel, “when you reach Manning, the two of you could just keep going north and...”

“No!” said Eugene. “I mean, as interesting as it's been thus far, I do have a life to make back home with my wife. That's really where I...where we...belong.”

“Then let's not worry about why and how we're here or why and how we all do...whatever it is that we all do,” said Rapunzel. “We're out here to relax, enjoy ourselves and celebrate life, are we not?” There were nods. “Oh, and  
Ben? You're going to go through some psychological adjustment, too...you and Ali both. It'll take some time to accept what you've become, but when you do, it'll be a huge relief. Just don't force it.”

There were a few moments of silence. Finally Ben broke it.

“So, what are we going to do today?”

“The same thing we do every day,” said Luke, then Howl joined him, “try to take over the world!”

“Good grief!” said Heather. Then they all laughed.

“I propose we do absolutely nothing,” said Harold.

“I agree,” said Eugene. “Yesterday was a zero, but it sure wasn't restful!”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“I'd also like to keep Ben under observation for another day at least,” said Sophie. “What I did was extremely complicated and there are still a lot of unanswered questions.”

“Then what are we going to do while we're doing nothing?” said Ben.

“What part of 'nothing' don't you understand, bro?” said Luke.

“When was the last time I just vegged out?”

“Who says we have to veg out?”

“Isn't that what doing nothing means?”

“What about those moving picture things?” said Rapunzel.

“TV screens can be quite hard on the eyes,” said Howl.

“That is an excellent point,” said Sophie, “Ben still needs to avoid overtaxing that eye. Besides, I would much rather spend time interacting with actual people than sitting in front of one of those infernal magic boxes of yours.”

“I agree,” said Harold. “There are few things more important than one's people.”

“More stories?” said Ben.

“Shall I tell 'Beowulf?'” said Eugene.

“Can you tell it in Anglo-Saxon?” said Ben.

“Of course!” Eugene began the tale while Harold translated: “Hwaet we Gar-Dena in gear dagum theod-cyninga thryn gefrunon, he tha aepelingas ellen fremendon....”

*****

A few hours later, Eugene finished to a round of applause. He took a bow. Then Lettie and Osric shared a similar—and similarly long—tale in their own mellifluous tongue while Howl translated. Ben told “Greensleeves” and “the Pink Ping-pong Balls,” two rather long and quite insipid jokes with questionably tasteless, but clean, punch-lines. That went on all day, shared stories real and imaginary, old and recent, humorous and tragic. Right after dinner, Eugene told his and Rapunzel's tale:

“This is the story of how I died. Oh, don't worry, it's actually a very fun story and the truth is, it isn't even mine. It's about a girl named Rapunzel. Now once in a great while, an ancient and venerable star dies. When it does, the suns weep and their tears fall upon the known worlds. If conditions are just right, a fallen tear may take form. Once upon a time, such a tear fell from the heavens and from this small drop of sunlight grew a magic golden flower....”

“Is that _really_ how it happened?” said Howl.

“More or less,” said Rapunzel.

“More or less?” said Ginny.

“Well,” said Eugene, “I may have embellished...just a little.”

They all laughed and then retired to the deck for dessert.

*****

Everyone was up early. Sophie was satisfied with Ben's progress. She gave him Howl's telephone number and e-mail address. Howl gave Ben a mobile door marker in case they needed a house-call. Eugene and Rapunzel were anxious to get back on the trail and everyone else was ready to go back home. Howl first activated the door to the small building near the Hwy. 50 trail-head. The door open, he wiped the marker off its trail-side surface. After Eugene and Rapunzel had given everyone a hug, they stepped through and back into the Sierra high country. The door closed behind them. They looked at each other, smiled, sighed, and set off northward with renewed energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eastern brook trout are native east of the Mississippi, but have been introduced in the West. They're very colorful, fairly easy to catch, and have delicious orange flesh (at least, the high-country ones do). There's been some environmental concern recently, owing to their aggressive behavior, which allows them to out-compete native rainbow and cutthroat trout for foot and habitat. They also hybridize. In some places, the regulations have, from time to time, allowed unlimited takes on brookies (always consult the regs for wherever you're going), which encourages anglers to catch as many as they possibly can...which makes everyone happy.
> 
> Golden trout are restricted to the cold upper reaches of southern California's Kern River, which is a land-locked stream, disappearing into the Tulare Lake bed in the extreme southern San Juoquin Valley. The California Deptartment of Fish and Game has planted them in many high Sierra lakes and streams cold enough for them.
> 
> I cut my backpacking teeth in the Carson-Iceberg Wilderness, my first multi-day trip including a stop at Noble Lake.
> 
> Douglas fir needle tea is quite good, although it may have a slightly pitchy taste. I'll have to make some on my next hike.
> 
> Do NOT, under any circumstances, eat wild plants unless you know EXACTLY what it is, which part of it you can eat, and how to prepare it...I mean it!
> 
> Golden-mantled ground squirrels and chipmunks are similar, but easily distinguished. Chipmunks are smaller and their stripes start on their snouts, pass across their eyes, and continue all the way to their tails. Golden-mantled ground squirrels are at least half again as large and their stripes start just behind their shoulders and go to the base of the tail; their heads, necks, and shoulders are a chestnut-brown color.
> 
> The Hunts, who live just down the hill from Ebbetts Pass, are good friends of mine...sorry, guys, I just couldn't resist...I promise, I'll make it up to y'all.


	13. On to Oregon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North of Mt. Lassen, Rapunzel is still coming to terms with herself. As they finish off the Northern California section of trail, Rapunzel convinces Eugene to help her play matchmaker to a pair of hikers. Eugene and Rapunzel's glowing becomes increasingly problemmatic.

Eugene and Rapunzel arrived at The Hideaway in Old Station a lot earlier than they anticipated. Firefly, the trail angel there, was off picking up hikers from Burney Falls, but there was a standing rule to make oneself at home, so they did. There were snacks and cold drinks—they specifically avoided the beer. They were surprised to learn that FireFly's husband's trail name was also FireWalker, though they were quite sure it had nothing whatsoever to do with anything even remotely resembling the reason Rapunzel bore that name.

They recognized a few of the hikers who'd already arrived--Cougarsbane, Oatmeal, Suncup, Greyjay and that one hiker who'd called Rapunzel a fusion bomb. Another hiker, whom Eugene thought he recognized from the Bighorn Plateau, kept eying them with suspicion from a far corner. No, Eugene corrected himself, it was abject terror and it was directed at Rapunzel.

Rapunzel trotted over to the nameless hiker, bent over and looked him square in his widening eyes. Eugene was about to ask what she was doing when she suddenly said, “ _BOO! ___” The hiker shrieked in alarm and collapsed into a quivering lump. Rapunzel immediately felt bad and tried to apologize, but to no avail. The poor guy just kept trying to retreat further into the wall and Rapunzel finally left him whimpering to himself.

Rapunzel just sighed as Eugene put his arms around her in what he hoped was a reassuring hug. He knew she was just being ornery, but he also knew that trying to convince a person of that when they were genuinely terrified of her was probably a lost cause. That made him sad because he knew just how absolutely sweet and adorable his wife really was.

The other hikers were nearly rolling on the floor with laughter. An icy glare from Rapunzel didn't seem to have that much of an effect on them. Even Eugene had to admit that the whole thing would have been genuinely funny if it weren't so regrettable.

They visited with the other hikers for a while, telling trail stories. Eugene and Rapunzel omitted the part about Ben Hunt's eye. Eugene privately wondered how Ben was doing, hoping that Sophie would update them at some point.

After a while, Firefly returned with a couple of hikers in tow—section-hikers who'd hiked from Subway Cave to Burney Falls. They, too, did the usual grab-the-food-and-drink routine that was standard with hikers everywhere and then participated in the trail-stories routine. FireFly noticed the hiker cowering in the corner and went over to investigate. The poor guy was nearly catatonic. Eugene hoped he'd recover so he could finish his hike. FireFly didn't seem to think he was in immediate medical danger apparently, so she just left him there, with the caveat that if he didn't come out of it by morning, she'd seek medical attention for him. Eugene wished Sophie were there.  
Later that evening, Firefly told some stories of her own in a particularly entertaining way. Then everyone retired to various corners of the courtyard for what they all expected to be a good night's sleep.

*****

Outlaw's Log  
August 1, 2011  
Burney Falls  
Miles: 45.9 Trip miles: 1426.8

Everyone's pretty much up with the sun. We all want to get up to the Hat Creek Rim before it gets hot. Cougarsbane is dealing with collapsed arches, so he's still expecting to take a couple more zeros while those heal. It sure would be handy to have Sophie here. On the other hand, she does tend to get annoyed with people who don't try to solve the problem once she's repaired its symptoms. Oatmeal, Suncup and Greyjay hike with us. They're not optimistic that we'll reach Burney the same day. It's 45 miles from here, but the terrain looks gentle, so I think we can do it. They disagree and so does FireFly. We'll see.

We decide to take the spur trail to Subway Cave. Firewalker and I are intrigued by this idea of an underground lava tube. We know it'll cut into today's mileage, but it just sounds so interesting. At first, we try navigating with the others' headlamps, but soon give up. Since they've all seen Firewalker in action, we figure we can risk one of her small fireballs. Besides, there's nothing flammable down here anyway. They're still awed—I guess I've just grown used to her, which gives me warm fuzzies and makes me glow, which DOES freak them out a little. Firewalker finds this amusing.

Back up on the surface, we camel up at the water faucet by the parking lot and then charge up the trail to the top of the rim. It's still cool-ish, but won't be for long. There's a viewpoint up here with these binocular-looking things. Ben would have had fun doing that with just what he has in his skull. The trail from the viewpoint is really easy and we make very good time. The forest here was burned a couple of years ago and all the pines are bare. The wind blows through their branches, but they don't sway like I'd expect—it's eerie. We cross a wash and the trail becomes rocky. The terrain is still undemanding, but the rockiness slows us down a little. The view off the rim is spectacular and goes on and on!

A thunderstorm is building to the south. I'm concerned that Firewalker's going to start drawing lightning strikes. We're trying to race the storm, even though Suncup says it's impossible. She may be right—each time I look up, the edge of that cloud seems to have expanded further than we've hiked. Soon we start hearing thunder and it's making me nervous. We pass a curious-looking metal tree, which Greyjay says is a microwave tower. What's a microwave? This is the highest point on the rim and still there's been no sky-to-ground lightning. We decide to make for a line of pines about a mile further north.

We take a break on a nice bed of pine needles. We're not sure if the trees will be a blessing or a curse if lightning strikes, but the others seem to think they're a blessing. They don't know my wife very well, do they? We've been burning through our water like it's lamp oil. We arrive at the Road 20 water cache none too soon, for each of us is pretty much dry. Firewalker drinks an entire gallon nearly in one breath. How does she do that? After we all drink and top off, we're on our way. Around the bend, we pass a yucky-looking pond. Suncup says it's for cattle. Firewalker wants to taste it. We all think she's nuts. She takes a sip and spews it out. We told her so!

It's late afternoon when we dive off the north end of the rim. Greyjay and Suncup argue about whether or not a particular plant is poison oak. I'm convinced it isn't. I'm apparently immune, or so says my wife, so it wouldn't matter to us. It's like hiking across the moon down here, only there's vegetation. After crossing a road, we enter a burn zone and it really _is ___like hiking across the moon—or, at least, what I think it might be like to hike across the moon. Oatmeal says something about zombies and Firewalker growls at him. She's _really ___touchy about that! It occurs to me that she _still ___hasn't told me what happened at the Princess Palace and I'm not sure I want to ask—I did that once and it didn't go well, so I decided to drop it until she's ready to talk about it.

It's getting to be evening as we begin our descent to Baum Lake. There's a large pipe running along the ground—it looks like a smaller version of the LA Aqueduct. Odd noises are coming from it and jets of water spout up from it here and there. Firewalker jumps on it and plasters her mouth onto one of the spouts. She nearly chokes on it before she remembers that it's kind of like a high-pressure drinking fountain. Does she have to try _everything ___? I suppose that's one of the reasons I love her so much...she truly IS quite adorable! We pass right next to something that looks like a large mill as we cross the river. Suncup says it's a powerhouse—I pretend I know what that is. We eat dinner at the fish hatchery. Firewalker keeps glancing in the direction of the fish-holding ponds. If there were anyone to ask, I'd beg a fish or two for her myself.

There really isn't anywhere here to legally camp without drawing attention, even with our collective hard-earned, through-hiker, stealth-camping skills. I refrain from mentioning my own stealth skills learned over many years as a wanted fugitive. Fortunately, the statute of limitations for, well, everything I've ever done has long expired in this time. The map suggests we crest out in a couple of miles on a broad hill, so we push for that. The crest of the knoll is covered with ponderosa pine, deep duff and peppered with rocks, which Greyjay thinks are bombs from an eruption of Mt. Lassen. Pitching tents seems problematic. We're tired, but since Burney Falls is only six miles away, we decide to push for it. A full moon's rising and we can see by that, or I can use the others' headlamps if needed. Firewalker can literally do it with her eyes closed. What a woman!

We arrive at Burney Falls at least an hour before midnight. There's no water in the creek under the bridge, but we've been told there's plenty over at the park a half-mile down the trail. We all set up camp at the large YCC—whatever that is--spot next to the trail and then nearly sprint over to the park. I almost have to restrain Firewalker, lest she jump over the lower bridge and into the creek. It's hard to see much, so we'll have to come back again in the morning. We find a drinking fountain and I'm still impressed by how much water Firewalker drinks! Where does it all go? We fill all our bottles, return to camp and pretty much pass out.

*****

Firewalker's Log

I'm eager to get moving. Everyone else interprets this as impatience and I suppose they're right. I literally hover over breakfast, which I'm sure I'd probably do anyway. That poor guy is still huddling in the corner. It looks like he at least got some sleep. I have this urge to go over and wake him up, just to be ornery. That bothers me. First I start eating animals raw and drinking their blood, now I have the urge to torment a fellow human being. Am I turning into a monster? I mention this to Outlaw on our trail to Subway Cave and he says it's just part of being human. I sure hope so. I'd hate for Howl to be more right than he knows—not because I want him to be wrong in general, but because it would just be terrible for me to be that dangerous. I don't want to be dangerous!

Oatmeal, Greyjay and Suncup are hiking with us. Cougarsbane is recovering from fallen arches. Sophie could have fixed that! It's times like these when I almost wish I still had the magic hair. We decide to walk through Subway Cave. Outlaw and I try to see by the light of the others' headlamps, but it doesn't work so well, so I kindle a small fireball. It's a good thing there's nothing flammable down here. It's just a tunnel anyway—a natural tunnel, but a tunnel nonetheless. Where does it come out anyway? That lava had to go somewhere.

We manage to reach the rim before it gets hot. The others insisted on it. I can still count on one hand the number of days I've actually sweated—two! They were both while crossing the Mojave. It's a good thing, too, otherwise I'd have to drink even more water! There's a large stone platform from which we have a great view from Mt. Lassen to the south to Mt. Shasta on the northern horizon. The valley below is flat and it's like we're looking down on Fangorn Forest! Only much of what's below us was burned in a fire. It's always fun looking back and being able to point to where we were and looking forward to see if I can pinpoint where we'll be. A few vultures soar on the wind above us. Greyjay says that doesn't bode well. He says they're just scavengers like big crows, but if they try to attack us, I'll still kill them and eat them!

I take a few swigs of water from the nearby water cache, even though we all “cameled up,” as Oatmeal put it, at Subway Cave. There's a small bottle of juice with a note on it. It's for me! It seems FireFly had an afterthought and threw together an unusual juice blend just for me. That was nice of her! The note says I should ration it, so I do. Some of the ingredients I know—pomegranate, cranberry, elderberry, Oregon grape, skunkbush—others are wholly alien to me--Acai berry, dragonfruit, honeyberry, goji berry, and what's wheatgrass? There are notes on the nutritional content of each of these. Do I look like I'm malnourished? Outlaw shrugs. Oatmeal and Suncup start talking about how all this activity burns through certain nutrients a lot faster than when we're not out here. They don't know that my resting metabolic rate is already sky-high, so I suppose it makes sense. They also talk about something called antioxidants, which I remember from our time with the Hunts—those people sure are on top of their health! Maybe I overestimate the sun-tears? Is that why I always fall on the wildlife like a rabid wolf?

The trail from here is easy and we tear it up. After a few miles, we cross a small wash and the trail becomes open and kind of rocky, which slows us down a little. After a while, we turn east to cross another, deeper wash under cover of pines. A thunderstorm is brewing and the air feels thick and oppressive. We take a break, but some thunder motivates us to keep going. Suncup says it's impossible to race a storm, but I don't think she knows I attract lightning. The edge of that cloud does seem to be advancing faster than we're hiking. I can tell Outlaw's concerned about that. But I can also feel the storm and it doesn't yet have enough energy for sky-to-ground strikes, although it's rapidly building up to that.

At the highest point on the rim, we pass something called a microwave tower, whatever that is. It looks like an odd metal sculpture to me. Maybe I'll commission something like that when we return home. No, better yet, I'll do it myself—it would be more fun and interesting that way. Oatmeal starts talking about capacitance and aetheric conduction and while I barely understand, I begin to wonder if I can redirect a lightning strike.

We eat lunch just north of a line of ponderosa pine we saw from the tower site. I like these pine needle beds. They're prickly, but so soft and squishy! We're all pretty much out of water by the time we reach the Rd. 20 water cache. There's even some shade! I don't really need it, but the others sure appreciate it. They all gawk at me as I...what's that word...chug a whole gallon of water. If they knew what having a body temperature of a hundred and twelve does to my metabolism and how much water that requires—and I _know ___Outlaw does—they wouldn't be surprised. A little while later, we pass what Suncup says is a cattle pond. I decide to try it despite Outlaw's objections. I take a sip and eww! It's _gross ___! They're all laughing, but they did warn me. I could sure go for some rattlesnake blood as a chaser!

It's late afternoon before we leave the rim. Suncup and Greyjay are arguing about whether a particular plant is poison oak. It looks a lot like that skunkbush stuff to me. Even if it is, I'm not allergic to urushiol anyway—or anything else, for that matter. Down here, it's like what I might imagine walking on the moon to be like, if it had trees. We cross a road and enter a recent burn zone. I'm glad Sophie, Lettie and Osric aren't here to see this. It would probably give them nightmares about the last hours of Ingary. Oatmeal says he's expecting zombies to attack us and I immediately snap at him. I know he's joking, but if he knew zombies actually exist and if he'd ever actually seen one, let alone several of them eating one of his friends, he'd never joke about it ever again! It _still ___gives me nightmares! I'm half-inclined to burn the eyebrows off the next person who says something like that, _especially ___if it's while I'm eating!

It occurs to me that I still haven't talked to Outlaw about that and the last time he asked, I overreacted—I apologized and he hasn't said a word about it since. I don't really blame him, but I suppose I really should talk about it at some point. It's just that it was _really ___disturbing!

It's getting to be evening as we approach Lake Baum. There's another aqueduct running along the ground. It's making funny noises and I just start giggling. The pipe's leaking and sending water up in little fountains here and there, so I leap over to one and put my mouth over it, but I underestimate the pressure. I must admit that all the spluttering I do is rather amusing and Suncup laughs so hard, she has to sit down. So I drink from the side—it's nice and cold. Outlaw shakes his head slowly as I return the few steps to the trail and I bap him on the chest. Does he _still ___not know how thirsty I get? Or maybe it's that my cuteness amuses him. It's a good thing we love each other. We cross the river by a large building that Suncup says is a powerhouse. I presume it makes electricity, but I don't know for sure. I munch on a handful of pea pods I grabbed a few meters back.

We eat dinner at the fish hatchery. There are tables, but I keep looking longingly over at the fish-holding ponds. Outlaw notices, and he goes to find someone to ask for a fish, but is unsuccessful. We could just walk in there and take a few, but that would be stealing. There are some nearby waterfowl, but Outlaw dissuades me from attacking them. After we eat, I walk over to a small stream and catch a trout from that. I have to kill it to catch it, but I waste no time devouring it. I share some with Outlaw. Oatmeal was there in Muir Hut, so he just rolls his eyes, but Greyjay and Suncup stare at me. I shoot them a glare that's meant to dissuade them from making any remarks about zombies. It apparently works—either that, or they're too shocked to say anything.

There aren't any legal camping spots here, so we make for the top of a knoll north of here. We spread out under some ponderosa pines. There's not enough space between rocks for our tent, though. We rest and debate whether to push on to Burney Falls. It's only six miles from here and we could make it in under two hours at our through-hiker pace. It's nearly dark, but the moon's rising. Outlaw thinks he can see by the headlamps of the others and I don't really need to actually see at all. There's enough difference in the heat from the trail tread and the surrounding vegetation that I can follow it even with my eyes closed. It's a full moon anyway, so we decide to continue using only its light.

I'm disappointed there's no water in the creek under the PCT bridge. Suncup assures us there's water downstream. I hope she's right. We make camp at a YCC area. There are other people there, so we try to be quiet. Then we go a half-mile to the park in search of water. I want to jump over the lower bridge and into the creek. We find a drinking fountain and I gorge on it. Outlaw wonders where it all goes and honestly, I have no idea either. We all refill our water, return to camp and collapse in our tents.

*****

Outlaw's Log  
August 2, 2011  
Red Mountain  
Miles: 16.9 Trip miles: 1444.0

We eat the last of our food for breakfast and then stretch out under the morning sun. When our friends finally get up—having slept in after yesterday's brutal miles—we head back over to the park. There's an interpretive sign that explains why there was no water in the creek beneath the PCT, but a veritable river pouring over the falls. Upstream from here, it's an underground river! It can just keep doing its thing. I had quite enough with underground water the day I met Firewalker. Speaking of whom, she keeps drinking out of every water fountain we find, of which there are surprisingly many. Is she _that ___dehydrated? I suppose it _was ___pretty dry up there on the Rim.

Oatmeal, Greyjay and Suncup go to pick up their resupply at the general store. Firewalker and I find the usual obliging door. It will be a light load, since it'll only be about 4 days to Castella. Sophie's busy, so we don't have a chance to ask about Ben, and Howl's been preoccupied with other things in addition to managing our supplies.

We meet back at camp, break camp, and hit the trail. It's really flat, but there's no breeze at all, save what we create by our own motion. Firewalker grazes on skunkbush berries, which she shares with me. I don't think they're quite ripe, though, although she keeps eating them. The others each try one, but then decline any more. The trail goes across a functioning dam—it seems the basic approach hasn't changed much since our time. Firewalker eats more pea pods and we all share a few ripe blackberries.

We stop for a break and a good long drink at Rock Creek. We all take a swim, too, even though it's not very deep. GreyJay says it's more of an immersion and I think he's right. Calling it a swim is rather generous. Around the bend, Firewalker eats a bull snake—that's five bull snakes—and then there's one of those monotonous climbs that never ends. We break for food and water at Peavine Creek. We pass under more of those electrical transmission lines. I don't know why Firewalker doesn't attract electrical arcs from those things, but they still make me nervous. GreyJay calls the next stretch a natural rock garden. If that's the case, then even if I'd have tried to keep track of those, I'd have completely lost count long ago. It's still pretty. Firewalker picks a yellow daisy-looking flower that GreyJay says is Oregon sunshine, another with purple, tubular flowers that he calls a penstemon and a minty-smelling one called coyote mint and puts them into her hair. That last one's edible, so she keeps picking stems to munch as we hike. I hope they don't attract any bees—knowing her, she'd try to eat them.  
The sun's setting as we reach Red Mountain. There's a large, flat, bare area and a fire ring. There's a lot of space to set up our tents, but the others just “cowboy camp.” What's a cowboy? We all watch the sun set over the mountain. While we've seen plenty of more dramatic sunsets, it still gives me warm fuzzies. Firewalker senses this, we look at each other, retire to our tent, and make each other glow.

*****

Firewalker's Log

After breakfast, Outlaw and I lay out in the sun. It feels really good! Yesterday was really long and brutal so the others sleep in. That's just as well, since the store doesn't open until 09.00 and that's where they're getting their resupplies. We're going to use an obliging door, of course. We head back over to the park—I still want to jump off the bridge—and stare at one of those interpretive signs. It's an underground river! I've had enough of underground water to last me the rest of my life, thank-you. I keep drinking at all the fountains we pass. Despite my familiarity with my water needs, I'm still constantly surprised at how thirsty I become. I sense that Outlaw thinks I might drown myself, which is silly...although maybe I _am ___trying to make up for the Rim.

Our load should be light, which is always good, especially since we'll have that long haul from Castella to Seiad Valley. We rendezvous back at camp, pack up and head north! It's flat, but the air is dead still. I graze on more skunkbush and wild peas. They're quite tasty. I share some with Outlaw, although I'm not sure he likes them as well as I do...or maybe it's because I'm in such a near-constant state of hunger that everything tastes good.

We try to take a swim in Rock Creek, but it's more of a dip than anything. It tastes good, though! After some more woods, we pass into a rocky clearing and I find a bull snake, which not-so-graciously allows itself to become my snack. After a while, we pass under some of those transmission lines. I'm not sure why I draw lightning, but not arcs from the wires. I can hear them buzzing and it grows _much ___louder as I pass beneath them. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't take much to call down lightning of the man-made sort, but I don't have the guts to try, since Oatmeal, GreyJay _and ___Suncup all say it's an entirely different form of electricity--alternating current as opposed to direct current--I have no idea what that means, but they say it's _very ___dangerous.

We come out into a natural rock garden. Those sure are pretty! I pick a few flowers and put them into my hair. I'm not sure why. While Outlaw keeps telling me how beautiful I am, and while I believe him, somehow the flowers make me _feel ___pretty, like a woman, rather than a monster. Outlaw thinks they might attract bees. If they do, I'll just eat them! It's late when we reach Red Mountain. There's a _lot ___of space there and the others do more of that cowboy camping—I'm still not sure why they call it that. Something about that sunset is giving Outlaw what he calls “warm fuzzies.” He doesn't say anything, but I can tell and it makes me want him. So I drag him into our tent and we make each other glow.

*****

Outlaw's Log  
August 11, 2011  
Grider Creek Campground  
Miles: 22.6 Trip Miles: 1660.0

These east-facing campsites are great for morning sun-baths. Firewalker thinks so, too. Whenever we're camped at one, she always wakes up just as the morning twilight is beginning to fade to pre-dawn yellow. She wastes no time dragging me outside. This is one such morning. You know, there was a time I would have screamed bloody murder about it. I still blame her for quite literally turning me into a morning person. Never mind that it also just as literally saved my life. Never mind that it led to the most interesting, satisfying life imaginable. Never mind that I now have the privilege of being married to the most amazing woman on earth.

My thoughts return to the present and from the look on Firewalker's face, it seems I was starting to glow. She has a particular sort of smile when she's seeing me do that. It's so cute. She's right—I'm going to have to learn to control that. She's been glowy longer than I have, so she's going to have to be the one to figure it out first and then teach me.

GreyJay and Suncup seem to be amused at our little ritual. While I don't exactly pay attention to much else while I'm sun-bathing, I'd swear they've been watching us while their breakfasts cook. Our sun-baths tend to take up our breakfast time, so we usually wind up eating as we hike. Today is no exception. For her, of course, breakfast isn't limited to just what's in her food bag. Today's kills bring her head count to 67 golden-mantled ground squirrels, eight garter snakes and ten quail. GreyJay and Suncup have even grown used to Firewalker eating the wildlife. Speaking of whom, I think they have a thing going—or they would if they'd admit it to themselves and to each other. I'm no expert on love—which I know sounds strange coming from a married man—but I _am ___an expert on body language. I may have to do to him what Max did to me--he'll thank me later.

Just a few miles down the trail, we stop at Paradise Lake. Firewalker shrugs off her pack and, without even breaking pace, shoves her face into the water and starts drinking. I drop my own pack, walk up beside her and do the same. I'm done, but she's still drinking. Is she trying to drain the lake? Has she even come up for breath? I'm getting jealous—I'm starting to think that lake's getting more tongue than I've had all week. I say as much and she just turns around and squirts that water right into my face. She laughs as I splutter. I give her the raspberry. She gives it right back. I step over to kiss her soundly. GreyJay tells us to get a room. It's really too early for a serious break, so we just top off our water and keep hiking.

We get a good view north from just above Buckhorn Spring. GreyJay identifies the Lower Devil's Peak Lookout. It reminds me of one of the Beacons of Gondor. Suncup starts humming the appropriate music. It gets stuck in my head. From here, we can also see all the way past Mt. Ashland to Pilot Rock. I really appreciate these kinds of places where I can see where my road will take me. There have been many times I wish I could have had that kind of view of my life. Maybe it's just as well I haven't—I probably would have freaked out.

I enjoy stretches of trail like the one following Grider Creek. They're usually shady, cool, and we can just, as they say here, scream down the trail. That's just as well, because tomorrow's climb is going to be brutal. Firewalker seems to be fixated on the Seiad Valley Cafe's pancake challenge. That's no surprise, though. Expecting someone like her to resist an invitation to eat _that ___much is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Grider Creek Campground is a nice place. I'm still in awe of campgrounds—they haven't even been invented yet in my time. That's not surprising either, since no one really needs them yet.

There are already a few people here. We recognize a couple of them as hikers with whom we've been leapfrogging since we crossed the Feather River. We make camp and then sit around a small campfire singing songs and telling stories. Apparently this sort of bardic thing is kind of expected on camp-outs. I _still ___have that tune running through my head! Suncup and GreyJay are sitting next to each other, trying to make it look like they're not sitting next to each other...if that makes any sense. From their body language, it doesn't look like they're aware that the other is doing the very same thing. Good grief!

Firewalker and I are cuddled up on a log and trying not to glow. That's not saying much, since I don't even know how to recognize it when I _am ___glowing. I guess this keeps me from relaxing enough to do so. After a while, one by one we bed down for the night. It's been a really good day. GreyJay and Suncup remind me of Firewalker and I a few years ago. Firewalker's hair smells really good, despite all the days of accumulated hiker yuck. All that put together leads to some rather nice...glowing. I'm just waiting for someone to make the connection between the glowing and the...auditory bits. How on earth are we going to explain that? Maybe no one will really want to know and I won't have to invent something even more improbable than the truth...or maybe the truth will be weird enough.

*****

Firewalker's Log

I just _love ___these east-facing campsites! We get _all ___the morning sun, not just what finally claws itself over a ridge. I want to catch every minute of it, so I always jump outside just as soon as I notice it barely getting light. Of course I drag Outlaw out there with me, though it sometimes takes a few minutes to get him going. He says he didn't used to be a morning person. He also says I turned him into one and he blames me for it. No matter how much he complains, I can tell he's not truly upset about it. It's just that he was perfectly happy being a non-morning person and never wanted to be one. Then I came along and his life's never been the same and it's all so wonderful! Anyway, he likes it, no matter how much he denies it. In fact, he's glowing right now while we await the sunrise. He's so funny.

GreyJay and Suncup are amused by our morning ritual. In fact, it seems we're their breakfast entertainment. I've made a practice of reaching out to my surroundings with my mind while we sun-bathe. I want to know everything about how heat behaves! It's been quite enlightening. For example, GreyJay and Suncup are _very ___attracted to each other, but they're unaware of each other's feelings and won't admit it. We'll just have to see about _that ___!

Since sun-bathing takes up what would otherwise be breakfast time, we've long ago started eating it as we hike. I've stopped really thinking too much about the snacks I procure on the trail. Outlaw stopped protesting long ago and accepts my offerings as readily as whatever's in our food bags. Even GreyJay and Suncup don't seem to mind too much. It still makes them twitch a little, but no more than watching a cougar eating a deer.

We stop for water at Paradise Lake. I'm so thirsty, I barely pause to drop my pack before plunging my face into the lake. It tastes _soooo ___good! I just drink and drink and drink. Outlaw walks up and makes some remark about the lake getting more tongue than him. I know he's joking, but sometimes he just needs a good jab to the ribs. Instead, I do the first thing that comes to mind and turn around to squirt a mouthful of water right in his face. His reaction is _way ___better than just poking him, though, and it's _really ___funny! He give me the raspberry, I return it, then he just grabs me and kisses me soundly. I love it when he does that...most of the time. GreyJay says something about getting a room.

A ridge south of Buckhorn Spring gives us a great view of things to come. GreyJay identifies Lower Devil's Peak Lookout, Mt. Ashland and Pilot Rock. I love being able to see where we'll be in a few days. This is so much fun! The descent of Grider Creek is really nice. While it's in the shade, it's more of an aggressive stroll—which strikes me as something else my parents wouldn't understand—so it's pretty relaxing, for all that we're, as they say here, screaming down the trail. I'm not sure I understand the metaphor, though. Anyway, I'm glad for this easy bit because we have quite the climb tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, they have this Pancake Challenge thing at the Seiad Valley Cafe. I'm _really ___looking forward to that! Anyone who challenges me to eat that much _must ___be met!

Grider Creek Campground isn't bad. I've seen better so far, but I've also seen worse. I recognize a couple of hikers, but some of the others are strangers. Outlaw pitches our tent while I start a small campfire. Someone was already trying to start one using matches. Matches? Are they kidding? There's nothing artistic about starting a fire any way but mine. It doesn't take long for a bardic circle to form. That's not what people call them here, but it's really the same thing. I love them!

Suncup and GreyJay are funny, although they're not trying to be. They're sitting next to each other, trying not to be obvious about it. They're still not aware that their feelings toward each other are mutual. I don't know whether to be amused or dismayed. Yes, I'm going to have to do something about that before we reach Callahan's.

Outlaw and I are cuddled up and trying not to glow. I still have no idea how to control it, but I do know that it happens when we're happy, relaxed and content, so maybe our being anxious about it is enough to keep us from being relaxed enough. Back in our tent, we really do glow. Outlaw's convinced someone's going to notice sooner or later and he's trying to figure out what kind of story to give when they do. What about the truth? Would anyone believe that either? Sometimes I think his past self is still haunting him.

*****

Camping at Cook and Greene Pass was risky, as far as campsites went. There was a nice flat spot with logs and a fire ring. There was also one of those ubiquitous forest information signs bearing the usual campfire and water-treatment suggestions, among other things. When push came to shove, there was even space for a few cars to park. The worst part was that it was literally right next to the road and it was hard to tell if the campsite was intentional, or more of an afterthought. Most of that had been nearly impossible to see in the previous evening's dusk when they'd arrived, as was the dirt and gravel road bed and the junction a dozen or so meters south with the dirt track running up toward Kangaroo Mountain whence they'd come. As forest roads went, it was a relatively major route from Seiad Valley over to the Illinois River drainage.

Dawn's early light fell upon Eugene and Rapunzel sitting on a log, awaiting the breaking of the sun over the eastern hills. GreyJay and Suncup arose shortly afterward and decided to do breakfast over a fire in the fire-ring. He ducked down a short spur trail to a nearby spring and returned a few minutes later with a kettle full of water. She had arranged some tinder and kindling and was rummaging for a firestarter. The wood suddenly burst into flames.

GreyJay looked over at Rapunzel, who was seated on her log. “Are you ruining our fun again?” he protested.

“Would you like me to put it out?” said Rapunzel insincerely, still not moving from her log. “Because you know I could do that.”

“Uh...I think we're good,” said Suncup.

“Damn, that's useful, though,” said GreyJay.

He and Suncup continued with their breakfast routine. They'd set some egg-and-potato dish and home-made salsa to re-hydrating overnight. Suncup supplied a biscuit mix and GreyJay added his own home-grown herb melange. Even Eugene noticed that they were cooking at eating like a couple. He reached over and squeezed his wife's hand. She looked at him and winked knowingly. Eugene and Rapunzel took time that morning to eat breakfast before packing up to start hiking. She cleaned out GreyJay's kettle...again. They all topped up their water.

Across the road, they stepped from the orange peridotites of Red Butte and Kangaroo Mountain to the serpentinites they were to traverse until just north of Wrangle Gap. Their route was initially easy. Still-closed cones clung to the trunks and branches of the knobcone pines, even a couple of dead ones. GreyJay shared the peculiarity of the species, which requires the heat of fire to open the cones and release the seeds. As if on cue, the end of one low-hanging branch burst into flames. Rapunzel watched in fascination as the cones on it slowly opened.

“Um...honey?” said Eugene after a couple of minutes. “Maybe you'd better put that out now.” She just looked at him. “Remember that big burn area around the Devil's Peaks?”

She nodded, then her eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh!” As suddenly as it had started, the fire went out. “But that was so interesting!” she exclaimed.

Eugene just smiled. “Oh,” he said, as though he'd just remembered something, “why don't you ladies go on ahead. I have to...you know. We'll catch up.”

GreyJay and Suncup seemed about to protest when Rapunzel spoke up, feigning embarrassment. “Oh, yes, right. Come on, let's leave the boys to their...thing.” She nearly herded Suncup on up the trail in that distinctly Rapunzel-ish way that always managed to keep Eugene off-balance. Once they were out of sight, Eugene took a few paces off the trail and took care of things. It hadn't been remotely urgent, but just enough for plausible deniability.

Only after he and GreyJay had resumed hiking did Eugene say something. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Suncup.”

GreyJay stiffened a little. Eugene noticed. He saw a lot of himself in GreyJay. He knew that getting any guy, including himself—and, by extension, GreyJay—to open up about his feelings for a girl was tricky. He also knew that that guy, like he himself had just a few years prior, needed a good hard shove in the right direction. He felt a little like a traitor and still didn't quite believe he was helping his wife play matchmaker for their two companions. But Rapunzel was right about one thing: they were now a lot like Eugene himself and his beloved were when they'd met.

“Uh...” said GreyJay.

“She's cute,” said Eugene, with a bit of that edge in his voice that guys use when ribbing each other. GreyJay squirmed a little. Eugene continued. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed.”

GreyJay exhaled heavily and paused, gazing ahead at nothing in particular. “She's way out of my league, man,” he said resignedly.

“What do you mean?” said Eugene, clearly fishing for more information while trying to cover for the fact that he didn't understand that expression.

“She's very white-collar and I'm very blue-collar.”

“That's important how?” said Eugene, still covering for his ignorance of Twenty-first Century socio-economic terminology and still nudging GreyJay in a Suncup-wise direction.

“Her family's well-to-do, successful, all that. She's working on her Masters. There's even supposedly some European royalty way back in her family tree. Me? I'm a workin' dude. Come from a long, long line of workin' men. Never went to college. I wouldn't fit into her world. You know?”

Eugene laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“You sound just like me,” said Eugene, “right after I met Firewalker. Let me tell you, fitting into her world is a lot less trouble than you might think. Besides,” he added, “you two work well together.” That was, of course, one of those practical bits that no guy could resist. It was key. He also wasn't sure he quite followed GreyJay's objections, but he knew them when he heard them.

GreyJay considered this for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose we do,” he said in a way that suggested something that surprised him that really shouldn't have.

They walked on for a few more minutes before Eugene continued to push the issue. “But do you like her?”

GreyJay paused, took a breath and exhaled. He looked up the trail and then up toward the ridge towering over them. Eugene followed his gaze. Rapunzel and Suncup were far above them, making their way up the swichbacks ascending toward Copper Butte. He heard some faint laughter filtering down from above. Things were apparently going well on that end.

“She's amazing,” said GreyJay finally. “She's smart, funny...gorgeous.” It was going better than Eugene had expected.

“But?” said Eugene. “I mean, besides the back-story.”

GreyJay paused and shook his head. “I don't know, man,” he said wistfully. “I'm not even sure if she's interested. And even if she is, she deserves better...a lot better.”

“Tell me about it,” said Eugene. “How do you think I got my trail name?”

GreyJay stopped again and raised an eyebrow. “You've got a rap sheet? Huh. You don't strike me as the type.”

“Rap sheet?”

“Yeah, you know, whatever you call a criminal record over on your side of the Pond.”

Eugene chuckled. “If kings and queens gave out awards for men who didn't deserve their wives, I'd have a whole pile of them. Trust me, if I had a chance with Firewalker, you have a chance with Suncup. And what makes you think she's not interested?”

GreyJay just shrugged.

“Maybe she's waiting for you to make your move.” Eugene's Flynn Rider alter-ego was rearing his ugly head again. Maybe he could use that. “Trust me, she's interested. Just don't overdo it.”

“And what if you're wrong? What if this crashes and burns? What then?”

“Then you'll know, which is much better than not knowing. Besides, a thousand miles of trail lay between here and Manning. That's a thousand miles you can spend getting to know her better.”

“And if it doesn't work?”

“Honestly, do you really see that happening? Like I said, you already work well together. Worst case scenario, a thousand miles gives you plenty of space. Either way, it's obvious you enjoy each other's company and I really don't see that changing. She may be the best thing that's ever happened to you. I know this isn't necessarily a very manly thing to say, but do you really want to risk missing out on a lifetime of happiness just because of a little bit of uncertainty?”

“I'm starting to see your point.” GreyJay was still squirming a little, but Eugene could see his resistance rapidly crumbling.

*****

Meanwhile, Rapunzel and Suncup made their way up the trail. Suncup was still surprised at how Rapunzel consistently managed to avoid stubbing her bare toes on all the rocks. Rapunzel wasted no time getting to the point.

“He likes you,” she said.

“Huh?” said Suncup, startled out of her revelry.

“GreyJay...he likes you,” Rapunzel repeated.

“How can you tell?”

“I have my ways.”

“Like what?”

“It's difficult to explain.”

“Can you try?”

“Uh...not really. It's a sun-bearer thing...it's complicated.”

“I don't doubt it.”

“But trust me, he likes you. I can tell.”

“Well...he likes me as a friend. Although now that you mention it, he does seem to be a little...nervous around me...from time to time...and I think it's getting worse.”

“That's because he likes you and he's afraid to admit it.”

“What? That's crazy!”

“Yes, but men are like that. You have to hit them over the head to make them deal with their emotions. They're rather silly that way.”

“Tell me about it. My last boyfriend was an emotional zombie. That's partly why we broke up.”

Rapunzel bristled at the mention of zombies, but forced it down upon deciding Suncup had meant it as a metaphor. “You like him, too, don't you?” stated Rapunzel, continuing the discussion.

“Well...yeah, actually, I do...a lot. He's funny, quick-witted, strong, smart.... He's a bit rough around the edges, though. My family would never accept him. They're too...refined.”

Rapunzel giggled. “Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. Outlaw's _much ___rougher around the edges than GreyJay is and _my ___family is _much ___more refined than yours...no offense...and they accepted him just fine.” She left out the whole lost Princess bit, which she figured would just be a distraction in the conversation anyway. “So maybe he'll have to prove himself to them. It's not ideal, sure, but so what?”

“He hasn't even asked me out or anything and you're talking like we're already engaged,” said Suncup in puzzlement.

“I'm being optimistic. But seriously, though, you're interested, right?”

“Very much so, yes.”

“So you have to be obvious about it. Men aren't very good at taking hints. They can learn, but it takes constant attention.”

“Okay, you're a married woman, what do you suggest?” asked Suncup, taking a sip from her Platypus hose.

“Kiss him,” said Rapunzel simply.

Suncup sporfled vigorously. No sooner had she recovered then she started laughing. “What?!”

“Kiss him,” Rapunzel repeated.

“Oh, no, I couldn't,” said Suncup, putting a hand up to her mouth.

“Why not? I did that to Outlaw.”

Suncup laughed some more. “Did you really have to do that to get his attention?”

“Well, no, but it sealed the deal, as it were. Seriously, kiss him. Just grab him and plant one right on his lips.”

“You really did that to your husband?”

Rapunzel nodded. “Well, he wasn't my husband at the time, of course, but yes. Yes, it was bold, no, I had no idea what I was doing, but that's exactly what I did.”

“But...what if he objects?”

“Trust me, he won't. It'll catch him off-balance and, well, that'll almost be the best part. Watching him react to that will be really funny.” Rapunzel giggled. “You like him, he likes you, you just have to bonk him over the head with it.”

“If you're sure....”

“I'm sure. You won't forgive yourself if you let him slip through your fingers. And your family will adapt. Trust me.”

*****

Eugene, Rapunzel, GreyJay and Suncup dove off the edge of Road 20 and descended the few dozen-or-so meters to Sheep Camp Spring. Rapunzel wasted no time shoving her mouth onto the stream of water pouring out of the two-inch pipe that directed the spring water out from the bank and into a small pool whence it flowed over a large wide spot and thence through a wide, open, meadowy bowl. She drank greedily. After a few moments, she pulled back and stepped across the trail to let the others drink. Only then did she remove her pack and sit down. One by one, everyone drank from the spring. While far from idyllic, and only three miles from Wrangle Campground where they'd planned to camp, it was still an excellent place for a break.

No one had really said much all day beyond the usual trail-related chit-chat. Not much of significance had yet developed between GreyJay and Suncup. In fact, the unresolved tension between them had only intensified. Suncup occasionally shot GreyJay a flirtatious glance and he'd grinned back like an idiot, which Rapunzel thought was cute. Eugene and Rapunzel were beginning to think they'd made a mistake in trying to play matchmaker, although they agreed that one day might not be quite enough time, regardless of the fact that it hadn't taken much longer than that for they themselves to fall in love and that they'd only known each other for less than a day before that. GreyJay and Suncup had known each other for a good three months since their arrival at Agua Dulce.

After everyone had eaten a good snack, they got in line with their water bottles. Filling them wouldn't take long, since the spring was flowing well and they only needed a half-liter or so each to tie them over to Wrangle. Eugene went first, handling both his and Rapunzel's bottles. Then he retreated while GreyJay allowed Suncup to go first. She was filling her bottle, when her demeanor abruptly changed.

“Oh, what the hell!” she exclaimed, dropping her bottle into the little pool. She abruptly stood up, whirled around and planted a firm kiss right on GreyJay's mouth. Rapunzel and Eugene exchanged a knowing glance, eyebrows raised, and Rapunzel started to giggle. GreyJay's body stiffened and his face ran though a gamut of interesting expressions, which made Rapunzel giggle even more. Finally Suncup released him, panting a little. They stood there for a few moments just looking at each other.

“Well?” demanded Suncup. “Say something!”

GreyJay said nothing, but grabbed Suncup and planted an even firmer kiss on her mouth. Before long, they were both leaning into it, arms wrapped around one another, kissing each other harder and harder until Eugene thought they might suck each other's faces off. He himself was certainly familiar enough with the feeling. By now, Rapunzel was literally rolling on the ground in a fit of hysterical laughter. Eugene was chuckling, too, partly at his wife and partly at the situation. After a couple of minutes, Suncup and GreyJay broke apart, breathing heavily and rested their foreheads against one another, looking intently into each other's eyes.

GreyJay then looked over at the Fitzherberts. “Um...could you...maybe give us a few minutes? I think we...er...have some things to discuss...you know...in private? We'll catch up to you at the campground.”

“Hold that thought,” said Rapunzel between gasps, still lying on the ground.

Eugene stepped over to his wife and helped her up. He held her until she'd recovered enough to accept her pack. Then they started off down the trail.

“Well,” said Eugene as soon as they were out of ear-shot from GreyJay and Suncup, “that was certainly...diverting.”

“And it worked!” squealed Rapunzel.

“So it would seem. And honey? You're funny.”

“Am I now?” she said with a lilt in her voice. She paused so Eugene could catch up. “And just what are you going to do about it?”

He grabbed her and planted his own kiss on her lips. After a moment, she pulled away, shot him a grin and swished off down the trail, something that Eugene found attractive despite the pack on her back. She looked back over her shoulder.

“Eugene?” she said with a sing-songy voice. “You're doing that thing again.”

He looked down at his hands.

“No, not that thing, the other thing,” she raised her eyebrows at him and he felt his pulse race. “Come and get me!” she teased and then took off down the trail. Eugene ran after her, which wasn't nearly as effective, as he was bigger and carrying more weight.

*****

The Wrangle Gap shelter was in evening shadow. Eugene and Rapunzel sat at a table sipping at warm beverages and happily munching on some of GreyJay's peanut-butter granola bars he'd been sharing. They occasionally stole smiling glances at one another. Eugene leaned over and kissed his wife on the head. She then turned and kissed him on the jaw. They set their food on the table and Eugene took her in his arms and began to kiss her tenderly. She returned his kisses in the same manner. Their pulses grew, but they simply remained there, enjoying the kissing and the sensations in their bodies.

“Oh my God!” came a cheery female voice from the edge of the shelter.

Eugene and Rapunzel broke apart and looked up to see Suncup and GreyJay standing there, gawking. They were holding hands. Suncup giggled. “Is THAT what we've been seeing coming from inside your tent?”

The Fitzherberts looked back at each other, and then back at Suncup and GreyJay.

“What?” said Eugene.

Suncup and GreyJay just snickered a little more.

Eugene looked at his wife. “Um...” he said nervously, “...we were glowing again, weren't we?”

Rapunzel shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said simply.

Suncup and GreyJay giggled a little more.

“It doesn't...bother you that we...glow?” said Eugene.

“Not really,” said GreyJay. “Not after you showed us that...whatever it was at Bighorn. I hope it's not contagious, though.”

“Actually,” added Suncup, “I think it's adorable.”

Rapunzel giggled slightly.

“How do you _do ___that anyway?” said GreyJay.

“It's complicated,” said Rapunzel.

“Bioluminescence is complicated?” said GreyJay, as he and Suncup walked over to an adjacent table.

“It's...not exactly bioluminescence,” said Rapunzel. She'd read up on it a little during their stay in Dorrington and had quickly concluded that her and Eugene's luminescence was unique on this planet.

“What do you mean, 'not exactly?'” said Suncup as she and GreyJay took off their packs and laid them on the table.

“It's complicated,” Eugene.

“You keep saying that,” said GreyJay as he and Suncup started unpacking their cooking equipment.

“Look,” said Eugene, “the fact of the matter is that we don't understand it either. It just sort of...happens.”

“When we're happy, content, relaxed,” added Rapunzel.

“I can see that,” said Suncup with a hint of a giggle.

“I don't,” said GreyJay, who'd turned back to his pack. “I know I put my headlamp in here somewhere.”

“Would this help?” said Rapunzel as a ball of fire appeared a meter above their heads.

GreyJay and Suncup both started.

“You know,” said Suncup, “we've been more or less leapfrogging with you guys since Agua Dulce and I'm _still ___startled by...whatever it is you do.”

“When you live with it day-in and day-out,” said Eugene matter-of-factly, “you get used to it.” He swiveled a little in his spot and slid an arm around his wife's waist. “But believe me when I tell you that it has required some...adjustment.”

“I believe you,” said GreyJay. “Oh, here it is,” he added a moment later as he produced his headlamp from his waist pack. “I'll be right back.” He donned the lamp, turned it on and plunged off into the woods. Suncup donned her own, took her and GreyJay's kettles and walked out in the other direction. GreyJay returned a few minutes later with an armload of firewood, which he deposited into the shelter's fire pit. Eugene and Rapunzel watched.

“You know,” said Rapunzel, “if you want to heat dinner, all you need do is ask.”

“It's more fun this way,” said GreyJay.

“What is it with men and fire?” said Suncup.

“What do you mean _men ___and fire?” said Rapunzel in feigned indignation.

Eugene chuckled.

“What's so funny?” asked Rapunzel.

“You are,” he said simply as he leaned over and kissed her.

“Now where were those matches...” said GreyJay as he walked back over to his pack.

Rapunzel rolled her eyes and the wood in the fire pit burst into flames.

GreyJay looked over at it, then at Rapunzel. “Could you at least have let me arrange it first?”

Rapunzel rolled her eyes again and the fire went out. GreyJay just looked at it.

“Well?” said Eugene impatiently. “Arrange it already!” He gestured toward the fire pit. Rapunzel giggled. GreyJay walked over to it and arranged some of the smaller bits in a small pile, setting the larger pieces aside to be added later. Suncup proffered two kettles filled with water. She and GreyJay set them one on either side of the pile of small now-charred sticks and stood aside.

“Okay, your...er...sultriness...” he stopped as Suncup frowned at him. “Uh...your feverishness?” Rapunzel frowned at him. “I'm going to have to do push-ups for this, aren't I?” Suncup snickered and poked GreyJay in the ribs. Rapunzel raised an eyebrow and Eugene tried not to look confused. After a pregnant pause, the small wood between the kettles burst into flame. Eugene and Rapunzel returned to their still-warm beverages, which Rapunzel had been keeping that way, while GreyJay and Suncup finished preparing their dinner to receive the water after it had boiled.

“You know what's funny?” said Suncup. She now sat by a table while GreyJay tended the fire.

“Enlighten us,” said Eugene.

“Well...” she and GreyJay exchanged knowing glances. “...somewhere north of Agua Dulce, we'd fallen in love.”

“Minutes after you left us at Sheep Camp, I was just about to propose to her right then and there, only to realize...” he broke off, trying to stifle a laugh.

“...we didn't know each other's real names!” finished Suncup. She and GreyJay broke into laughter.

“Isn't there a country song about that?” said GreyJay as he dropped another piece of wood on the fire. Suncup chortled. He then walked over and kissed her.

Eugene and Rapunzel also shared the laughter. “Well, did you...you know...?” she asked when they'd all calmed down.

“Did he propose?” said Suncup. She glanced at GreyJay. “Almost. Once we recovered from the shock of that...”

“...not to mention the shock of...” interrupted GreyJay.

“...my...er...indiscretion,” continued Suncup.

“You may be indiscreet with me as often as you like,” said GreyJay with a wry smile.

“You're so sweet,” she said as she pulled him down for another kiss.

“They're just like us,” muttered Eugene to Rapunzel, who giggled.

As soon as their water began to boil, GreyJay walked over to the fire to stir the coals a little. “Yes, Firewalker, I know you could do all of this for us, but I insist.” He removed each lid and poured his and Suncup's dry dinners into the hot water and re-covered the kettles to simmer.

By now, Rapunzel held her and Eugene's kettles, one in each hand, wafts of steam rising from them. Eugene added their food and did the stirring. “You know, you could set them on the table,” he said helpfully.

“I know, but direct contact is more efficient. Besides, it's more interactive.” She playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

“Ah, so _that's ___why you're holding the kettles...” Eugene teased. Rapunzel just grinned.

After a short while, everyone's food was nice and re-hydrated. GreyJay removed his and Suncup's from the fire with the help of his bandanna and Rapunzel simply set hers and Eugene's on the table. They said grace and tucked into their food. Greyjay's was vaguely Pacific Northwest, Suncup's generically Southwest and the Fitzherberts' solidly German. Suncup's worked best as a dehydrated dish and the Fitzherberts worked worst as such. Nonetheless, food was food after a long day on the trail.

When they'd finished their dinners, they went to turn in. GreyJay and Suncup hung their food, but the Fitzherberts didn't bother.

“Let me guess,” said GreyJay, “if anything tries to get your food, you'll just kill it and eat it, right?”

“Of course!” said Rapunzel cheerily.

GreyJay and Suncup tossed out a Tyvek sheet and laid out their bags next to each other. Eugene and Rapunzel crawled into their tent and cuddled up under their sheet. They kissed and kissed...and a short while later lay there basking in each other's glow. Suddenly, Rapunzel sat up and Eugene cocked his head inquisitively.

“Alright, you two!” said Rapunzel loudly. “No glowing out there!”

“You could hear us?” said GreyJay.

“No, but I can sense your body heat and I know what you're doing.” She was mostly ribbing them and Eugene was doing a valiant job stifling his laughter. “You're not married yet, so no glowing for you!”

There was some scuffling. “Yes, mother!” said Suncup sarcastically. She and GreyJay giggled softly.

“Oh, and dearest?” whispered Rapunzel into her husband's ear. “You'd best bathe and shave if you want some glowin' tomorrow night,” she teased. He gently breathed into her ear and they snuggled down under their sheet.

“I _still ___have that song of yours running through my head,” said Eugene after a moment.

“Go to sleep, dearest.”

After a while, they all drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Seiad Valley Cafe (http://users.sisqtel.net/rjones/) has a standing Pancake Challenge to the effect that if you can eat their gargantuan stack of pancakes, your meal is free!
> 
> Callahan's Lodge (http://www.callahanslodge.com/) at Siskiyou Summit is another popular stop along the PCT, especially for those who don't want to hitch into Ashland. They have a history of being a hiker-friendly establishment.


	14. Mazama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel, along with friends and family, enjoy a night on the Crater Lake rim.

Eugene and Rapunzel powered toward the lower slopes of what remained of Mt. Mazama. It was late in the day and they'd already laid down an impressive forty-seven miles. That much exertion left Eugene surprised that his wife was still moving, let alone in as good of spirits as she was. He supposed she was drawn not only toward what they'd been told for some time was the breathtaking view of Crater Lake, but the all-you-can-eat buffet just around the corner. He also supposed it helped that she'd killed a deer the day before and they'd prepared much of the meat for the present day's hike and hopefully for a couple of days after that.

What surprised him more were the high-mileage days they'd logged since Pilot Rock. What surprised him most was that Rapunzel's song—the one she'd sung the day she realized she'd accepted what she'd become and had been humming off and on for weeks—was _still_ stuck in his head. He was just thankful it was a pretty one—nearly as pretty as the lady who'd caused it to become firmly lodged in his mind. On the other hand, if it were still in there by the time they reached Manning, he just might go insane.

They stepped into the reception area of the Annie Creek Restaurant. Their hostess took one look at them and went white as a sheet. They were expecting that sort of thing. It had happened repeatedly in virtually every eatery they'd visited and every through-hiker to whom they'd talked always had similar experiences, particularly at establishments serving all-you-can-eat buffets such as Annie Creek. Eugene strongly suspected they weren't the first through-hikers to darken its doors thus far in the season and he doubted they'd be the last. Quickly regaining her professional composure, she showed them where they could stow their packs for the duration of their meal and then escorted the two to their table, apparently oblivious to Rapunzel's bare feet. Correctly inferring that they'd be interested in the buffet, she gave them some relevant information and walked away.

Eugene had spent the time between the Hwy. 62 crossing and the restaurant reviewing the finer points of effectively navigating the all-you-can-eat buffet. Rapunzel, of course, was inclined to shoot first and ask questions later, as it were. He reminded her that stomach volume was finite. She reminded him that hers would have the first several bites fully digested and sent on their way within five minutes. He insisted that they'd both be far more gastronomically satisfied if they made their selections with care. After all, he reasoned, they were going to eat copious amounts anyway, so they may as well eat copious amounts of the good stuff. Rapunzel had reluctantly agreed.

On their first walk-through, the scouting phase critical to buffet success, Rapunzel commented eagerly that it all looked so good. Eugene noted that she always said that when she was hungry—which was a near-constant state for her. He recalled that she'd even said that about the pile of deer viscera the previous day—never mind that barely a third of that was really edible. On their second pass, they took very small samples of nearly everything. Identifying the good stuff without filling up one's stomach much was nearly as pivotal as the scouting pass.

Having decided on a good half-dozen or so dishes, Eugene and Rapunzel descended on those and returned to their table with liberal helpings of them. Rapunzel forced herself to chew, partly to savor the flavors and partly to make the most of her stomach's volume—never mind that at least a tenth of what she'd eat during that dinner hour would already be well downstream of her duodenum before they even walked out the doors. They went back for seconds of those favored dishes, as well as small quantities of a few others. They tried to balance taste with nutrition, protein and calories—not only did they need to replace what they'd burned that day, they still had more hiking to do before their day was done. At last they did dessert. They thought the multi-berry concoction at Drakesbad was better, or at least more interesting—and Rapunzel still favored the fruit dish Eugene had made her the day he'd proposed—but overall, it wasn't bad and they decided it wasn't just because food always tastes better after a really long day's hike.

Eugene paid their tab and they returned to the front of the restaurant to retrieve their packs. They filled up with enough water to adequately wet down their meals and hydrate themselves for the remainder of the day. Together, they returned to the PCT, swung around Dutton Creek and began their thousand-foot, two-and-a-half mile climb up what was left of Mt. Mazama, barely recognizable as such, even from the top of the volcanic shell named Mt. McLoughlin.

*****

It was twilight by the time they reached the Rim Road which circumscribed the upper edge of what had come to pass for Mt. Mazama. It was too dark to see the lake that filled its caldera. They crossed the road and walked the few dozen meters to the Crater Lake Lodge. It was a large, four-story structure built of stone and timber, all local materials. Rapunzel was bouncing as they approached the front entrance, her unbridled enthusiasm for everything bubbling over as usual.

“Oh, Eugene!” she exclaimed as they walked into the lobby. “This is delightful!”

The building's interior matched its exterior. The outer walls were rhyo-dacitic stone. The doorways were framed with un-milled pine, fir, and hemlock trunks, many with their bark left intact. The ceiling was of sturdy, rough-hewn timbers.

“It is rather homey, isn't it?” he conceded.

They checked in at the front desk and went up to their room, which faced east toward the lake. A shower and a shave were first on the agenda. Rapunzel had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he shouldn't expect any glowing, as she put it, until he'd made himself civilized, which specifically included shaving. He didn't need any further convincing, even if life in the Corona Royal Palace hadn't spoiled him for having a smooth face every morning and a clean bed every night. They helped each other wash their hard-to-reach places, but forced themselves to refrain from glowing in the shower. They weren't wholly successful, as the relaxation experienced in a hot shower triggered whatever it was that made them glow, much to their mutual amusement. Eugene's glow had faded by the time he put on a bath robe to take their laundry downstairs for washing.

Eugene returned to their room to the sound of voices from within. He opened the door hesitantly and stepped inside to find their room filled with people, most of whom he knew: Howl and Sophie; Harold and Liesel; Lettie and Osric; Neil introduced his wife Nalaya, a tall, slender Ingarian woman about her husband's age, with chestnut hair streaked with rusty-orange and slate-blue eyes tinted lavender with amber streaks.

“They're going to hike with us to Cascade Locks!” said Rapunzel excitedly.

Eugene raised an eyebrow and then smiled warmly. “Shall we go downstairs for tea? This room's a bit cramped.”

They all agreed and followed Eugene and Rapunzel down to the lobby, the two of them still dressed in bath-robes. Eugene ordered tea for everyone and Howl graciously paid for it. Everyone partook of some herbal selection or other, partly because those decaffeinated infusions were best for the end of the day—especially for Eugene and Rapunzel following their hard day's hike--and partly because nearly half the party were Ingarian and had specific dietary considerations relating to their biochemistry. They sat in the lobby before the main fireplace and visited for an hour while sipping at their tea.

Later, everyone exchanged hugs in front of Eugene and Rapunzel's door. The two of them retreated within and the rest walked a few steps down the hall to Howl and Sophie's room. Howl used a marker to form a portal to Wales whence he retrieved everyone's gear. Deactivating the portal returned the door to its normal function. Everyone else bid each other good night before retiring to their respective rooms.

*****

Eugene and Rapunzel's room was dark. They seldom bothered to turn on the lights whenever they stayed at a place that had them. That was relatively infrequent and they could almost count on one hand the number of lodging establishments they'd visited, so it was rarely an issue at all. It also didn't help that Rapunzel would trip the breaker if she were to try flipping a switch herself, so she always had to ask Eugene to do it, even if it weren't practical. Even more to the point, electricity didn't exist in their time anyway, except in the form of lightning, so it even more rarely crossed their minds that they _could_ have artificial light at the touch of a button. Furthermore, they'd grown accustomed to Rapunzel simply kindling a small ball of fire so that they could see what they were doing after dark. Eugene still carried his LED headlamp, but for those reasons he still rarely used it.

That evening was no exception. Never mind that they didn't need light to do what they were about to do. Never mind that they'd generate their own special kind of light in the process. It was dark and they were alone, just the two of them. Eugene gently took his wife by the waist and just as gently pulled her to him. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. She kissed him back.

He slid his hands under Rapunzel's bathrobe and lightly stroked her sides just above her hips.

“That tickles!” she giggled, breaking the kiss.

“Does it, now?” he said.

Rapunzel giggled again and Eugene again brushed her lips with his own, then raised his head to kiss the tip of her nose. He moved to her cheek, then down along her jaw-line and kissed her chin.

Rapunzel closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Eugene followed her invitation to begin a trail of light kisses down her neck, savoring her light breathing, the pleasant noises she made, and the soft glow already emanating from her silky skin.

Eugene traced Rapunzel's collarbone with his lips, following it toward her shoulder. He gently slid the bathrobe from her and let it fall to the floor. He paused to glance at her face, noting the blissful, expectant expression and they way her eyes still communicated so much even when closed.

Returning to the kissing, he left a trail of them over her shoulder, working his way slowly across the glowy expanse of her back, following her shoulder blade toward her spine. All the while, he let his hands roam lightly about her luminous skin, brushing up and down her arm, tracing the curve of her breast, circling her belly-button.

Eugene traced kisses and light licks down her spine from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, savoring the pleasant little shudders she made. It was taking a great deal of willpower to hold himself back, but she was his wife and she deserved to have him make sweet, passionate love to her and in a way befitting a woman like her.

“Eugene...” she whispered.

“Hmm?” he inquisited, still kissing her.

“That feels really good,” she said quietly.

He retraced his kisses back up her spine, occasionally very lightly flicking her warm skin with the tip of his tongue. Rapunzel giggled in shallow, breathy giggles. He kissed her other shoulder-blade bit by bit, still letting his hands roam over the silky surface of her body. Now and then, a finger ran across a particularly ticklish spot, which made Rapunzel giggle and twitch.

Once or twice, the tip of his fully-erect manhood brushed against Rapunzel's buttock, eliciting a short, eeping gasp that he was unsure how to interpret. He worked his way over her other shoulder, across her upward-tilted jaw-line, then down her neck. He paused briefly at that adorable little hollow between her collarbones, then again between her perfect, luminous breasts. He exhaled lightly and Rapunzel quivered a little.

Eugene brushed his fingertips along her sides as he kissed his way down to her belly-button, enjoying the brightening of her glow and how his own that he saw out of his peripheral vision matched it. It excited him even more and he began to wonder how much longer he'd be able to hold it together, for he wanted his wife like he'd never wanted her before, even on their wedding night. Rapunzel reached out, gently took her husband by the shoulders, and guided him back upright. She happened to glance down. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed.

Eugene could swear her glow took on a slight, but distinct, rosy hue.

“I...it's...well, this is the first time I've actually...looked at it.” She sounded more than a little embarrassed.

Eugene shrugged and gave her what he hoped was a coy sort of smirk. “And it's all for you.”

Rapunzel batted her eyelashes and cocked her head seductively. Then she closed the distance and kissed her husband...lightly at first, the kisses deepening. Eugene gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He could feel her erect nipples pressing against his chest and his own erect manhood pressing just above that certain space between her legs.

Rapunzel tightened her own grip on Eugene. He took it to be an expression of her own increased desire, which was quite evident as she wiggled her hips against him, causing him to gasp a little. They broke the kiss, already out of breath.

“Wow, honey,” he said. “You're glowing that brightly and we've barely started.”

“Just me?” she said seductively.

Eugene held his hand up and turned it over, considering the glow emanating from it. Then his returned his attention to his wife, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Then let's see just how bright we can be!”

He took her lips in his own and kissed her again, matching the pressure she exerted while resolutely trying to keep himself under control. After a few moments, Rapunzel suddenly broke the kiss and looked abruptly at the wall with a gasp.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, then giggled. “I think some of the others are starting without us,” she said with a mixture of surprise, amusement, and embarrassment.

“I thought this was an endurance event,” said Eugene coyly.

“Oh, it is,” Rapunzel teased as she kissed her husband again.

The kisses deepened once more and Eugene felt his wife's tongue slip into his mouth. He returned the favor, back and forth, gently tasting her.

Rapunzel slowly directed them toward their bed, still kissing and stroking each other, Eugene reveling in the pleasant noises his wife made in response to his caresses, and the golden light given off by her skin. He reached down and drew back the blankets and the top sheet and she took it as an invitation. She lay down and, placing her hands on Eugene's waist, pulled him toward her.

Eugene climbed into bed and positioned himself above his wife, looking down at her lovely face, into her literally-shining green eyes. He paused to admire the view, then lowered himself a little more. He watched Rapunzel's breathing quicken and her glow brighten even more.

Then Rapunzel placed her hands on her husband's buttocks and pulled him forward until Eugene felt himself slipping into her. They both gasped a little and the light shining from them abruptly brightened. “Oh, Eugene,” she moaned quietly.

She felt _so_ good and he paused to savor the feel of her womanhood all around him. Just as he was about to move, her hands squeezed his glutes and she raised her hips, sinking herself further upon him, inhaling sharply. He began to move in response, slowly at first, savoring the pleasant noises she made. The more he moved, the more noises she made. She lifted her hips to meet his every thrust, seemingly hungrier for his body than she'd been for food.

Eugene's movements gradually quickened, both of them gasping for breath, until he thought he was going to burst. He thought about other things...the trail, his work back home, combat maneuvers...to distract himself just enough to continue holding back.

Suddenly, she rolled, pulling him with her, until he was on his back with her on top. She grinned at him as she began to move once more. He watched her close her eyes, a rapturous smile spread across her face as she sank further onto him. Her features were becoming diffused by the bright-yellow light pouring from her, but Eugene could still hear the delicious sounds she made and feel the enthusiasm with which she glided back and forth upon him.

She accelerated, her breathing quickening along with her own movements. The pitch of her vocalizations rose ever higher. After a few moments, she rolled over again, pulling her husband with her so that she was once again on her back.

“Take me, Eugene,” she said, her voice low and raspy.

Eugene surged deeply into her over and over, drawing gasp after ragged gasp from her throat. He could feel her fingernails, one hand gripping his gluteus, one on his back, as she pulled him into herself. He slid a hand behind her and pressed upward against the small of her back. The light radiating from them grew brighter and brighter with every thrust. Eugene could now see nothing but blindingly white light.

Just when Eugene thought he couldn't hold it any longer, he felt his wife shudder, accompanied by a light squeaking sound. He released and emptied himself into her, coming so powerfully, he felt he might turn inside out, or tear her in half. The light appeared to briefly blaze an ice-blue shade that washed through the whiteness. Rapunzel squealed and they both cried each other's names.

They both stayed there for a few minutes, panting, staring into one another's eyes, the light ever-so-slowly dimming, basking in their mutual glow and the sweet, physical rapture they'd just shared.

If anyone out on the rim had been looking in that direction, they would have thought someone had lit several Coleman lanterns in Eugene and Rapunzel's room. They might also have noticed a similar, but more subdued, silvery light emanating from within Howl and Sophie's room a couple of windows away.

*****

Rapunzel woke with a start, sitting bolt-upright.

“Honey?” said Eugene, who'd just awakened himself. “Is...everything alright?”

She paused before answering. “Yes...I think so. I just felt...something strange.”

“Strange how?” he said, a note of concern in his voice.

“I...I'm not sure. I don't know how to describe it. Oh, it's nothing bad,” she said, trying to allay the fears she was sure her husband was feeling. “I'm not going to discharge or anything. But...it was something deep...very deep...like, down in my soul, deep. In fact,” she said pensively, “it was almost...pleasant. I've never felt anything like it. Whatever it was, it sent a ripple through the sun-blood...a powerful ripple.”

“Alright,” said Eugene, placing a hand on Rapunzel's shoulder, “but you'll let me know if you get any more...weird feelings, won't you? I mean, I doubt there will really be much I'll be able to do, other than just be here for support.”

“Dearest,” she said, turning to face him, “at least half the time, that's all I need from you.” She smiled and he leaned over and kissed her tenderly.

The two of them stood up, still completely naked, and stepped hand-in-hand to the center of the room to stand before their window as the dawning sun cracked over the eastern rim of Crater Lake. Their bathrobes still lay on the floor right where they'd dropped them the night before. They closed their eyes, basking in each other and in the sun's rays as they fell upon their fully exposed bodies.

“Last night was...amazing!” said Eugene.

“I know!” squealed Rapunzel.

“It was so bright, I could barely see your...shining face.”

She laughed. “Oh, dearest, you do have a way with words.”

“I love how your enthusiasm flows out into everything,” said Eugene after a moment.

Rapunzel sighed contentedly. “That was even better than that morning in Tuolumne.”

Before Eugene could say anything else, Rapunzel whirled around to face him. “Catch!” she said cheerily as she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his torso. This time, he was mostly ready.

“I really do love you,” he said as he kissed her. He gently lowered them to the floor, carefully keeping their bodies together.

A short time later, they lay there breathing heavily, gazing into each other's eyes, basking in both the glow of the sun and that of each other.

“That was at least as good as it was in Tuolumne,” said Rapunzel.

“I know!” said Eugene, trying to mimic his wife's enthusiasm.

She giggled. “Eugene? Don't quit your day job.”

They both broke into laughter as he rolled off of her and onto his back.

“It's a good thing my day job is the same as my night job, then isn't it?”

“How's that?”

“Are they not both here by your side?”

“Oh, Eugene,” she giggled. “You're trying to make me glow some more aren't you?”

He propped himself up on an elbow and kissed her, taking a moment to gaze into her gorgeous green eyes. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes.

“Eugene?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Last night...last night, you wanted me more desperately than I've ever seen you want me before. It looked like it was almost painful, the way your whole body was lit up like it was, and not just how much you were glowing. But you...you held back. Why?”

Eugene smiled. “You're my wife...and I love you very, very much. You deserve to have me make love to you...slowly...in a way befitting the phenomenal woman you are.”

Rapunzel sighed, smiled, glowed some more, and the two of them spent a few more minutes gazing into each other's eyes and enjoying the morning sunshine.

Again, Rapunzel broke the silence. “I'm hungry, how about you?”

Eugene resisted the urge to say that his wife was always hungry. Not only did it pretty much go without saying, but he'd learned that such things weren't acceptable afterglow conversation. Instead, he sat up and swiveled around so he was facing the sun. “The others should be up soon. I suppose I should go check on our laundry so we'll be ready to descend upon breakfast.”

She thought for a moment. “I suppose that would be best. Bathrobes worked for late night tea, but someone might think we'd been up all night...” she broke off with a giggle.

He tilted his head to the side. “We wouldn't want that,” he said in his best Rapunzel impression.

That amused her. “Dearest? Don't try to be me. It doesn't become you.”

That amused him in return. He moved over and kissed her, then reached over to grab the discarded bathrobe.

“It will be a shame to cover that up,” she said.

“I could say the same,” he said as he stood up, looking his wife up and down. “I promise, we'll take a zero somewhere and we'll spend the whole day not covering up.”

She laughed. “Oh, Eugene, you do know how to sweet-talk a girl. But you're right, you really should see about our clothes.”

Eugene smiled at her, donned the bathrobe and walked out the door. He returned a little while later with their clothes and lightweight sleeping sheet. Rapunzel was still on the floor, stretched out full-length in a patch of sunlight. Eugene took a few moments to enjoy the view. “Hello, sunshine,” he said.

“Hello, yourself.” She beamed at him.

They reluctantly put their clothes back on. “You know,” he said, “it does feel quite good to have clean clothes on a clean body. Not as good as...” he broke off and grinned at his wife.

She giggled. “I agree on both counts.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Harold. “We're not...interrupting anything, are we?”

“We were just about ready to do something about breakfast,” said Eugene. He glanced over Harold's shoulder to see all the others queued up down the hall, gear in hand. “It seems we're right on time.”

Rapunzel ducked beneath her husband's arm and hugged her parents. As she pulled back, she gazed quizzically at her mother and then giggled. “Mama!” she said with a tone of slight embarrassment. Liesel raised an eyebrow. Rapunzel looked from her mother to her father and back again, raising her eyebrows. Liesel looked at her husband and blushed. Rapunzel then looked at the others, giggling a little more as her gaze went from one to the other. Soon, she was laughing hysterically. She grabbed Eugene for support and slowly slid down onto the floor in a fit of laughter. Everyone looked at her quizzically. Eugene started to chuckle. “I love it when she does that. I have no idea why she's doing it, but it's very cute.” Soon everyone else was laughing.

When the laughter had subsided, Rapunzel picked herself off the floor with Eugene's help. “I'm sorry,” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “But after what I sensed last night and the way all your brains are still lit up, we've all produced enough dopamine to choke a camel!” she said in that same chipper tone she'd used when she'd first had Eugene in her closet. “I just think it's funny.”

She looked over at Sophie and giggled. “Sophie? You're still glowing,” she teased. Sophie blushed. Rapunzel's stomach growled, reminding her of the resolute and unyielding need for breakfast.

“You go on ahead. I'll grab our gear and be along in a minute,” said Eugene.

*****

Eugene stepped into the lobby. He spotted a pile of familiar-looking packs and poles over in a corner and went over to deposit his and Rapunzel's along with them. Then he walked to the other end of the room and through a set of French doors set in a wall built of ponderosa and lodgepole pine logs with their bark left intact and into the dining room. It was much like the lobby. The walls were mortared rhyo-dacite stone. A large fireplace stood centered on the far wall. A single still-barked whitebark pine trunk supported the ceiling. Large windows looked out upon the lake. He located his party gathered over at one of those east-facing windows.

He sensed a certain amount of tension as he approached. All of the Ingarians were staring out the window at Crater Lake, their mouths agape. They looked like they were just on the verge of tears. Their waitress looked a bit flustered, as though that were the last sort of reaction she'd have expected from anyone laying eyes on Crater Lake for the first time. “Uh...” said Eugene as he walked up to them, “...is...something wrong?”

Howl turned to him. “Crater Lake is unique on Earth,” he said to Eugene, indicating the view out the window behind him. Eugene looked in that direction. He'd been a bit distracted earlier that morning and the rising sun had been in his eyes anyway. Now its angle was high enough to allow for a good view.

“It's beautiful,” he said.

“It is indeed. There are...were...lakes just like this all over Ingary. Some were volcanic like this one, others filled-in meteorite impact craters.”

“And this reminds them of home,” said Eugene somberly.

“Sophie and her kin are understandably in a bit of shock. Ingarians have a different grieving process. It's usually brief and intense, in contrast to ours, which is generally quite protracted and rather sedate in comparison. Believe me, the months following their arrival on Earth were...unpleasant for all of us and that's putting it _very_ mildly.” Howl turned back and put a reassuring hand on Sophie's shoulder.

By now, tears were flowing and the waitress seemed even more flustered. Eugene explained the situation as best he could. She looked at Eugene, at his party, then back to him. She finally set the menus on their table and promised to return in a few minutes with some water. Rapunzel walked up and threw her arms around Eugene, holding the embrace for a few moments before looking up into his eyes. “I don't like seeing our friends like this,” she said with a pained tone.

He brushed a hand through her orange-ish-brown hair. “Neither do I. They have to work through it in their own way. They'll be alright...eventually.” He kissed her on the forehead. They turned back toward their table. By now, everyone had taken their places. The Ingarians had stopped crying, but continued to steal wistful glances out the window.

The waitress returned with a large tray filled with glasses of water, which she distributed to everyone. Rapunzel grabbed hers, downed it in one breath, and then looked sweetly back at the waitress as though that were the most normal thing in the world. The waitress said nothing, but refilled the glass from a pitcher, which she then placed on the table.

Everyone else was pouring over the breakfast menus. Rapunzel remarked that it all looked so good. Eugene smiled at that and simply agreed. Sophie, Howl and Neil conferred with their kin to figure out what among the offerings was likely to be edible to Ingarians. Wheat and dairy were right out. In the end, the Jenkins party elected to do things family style, everyone eating what they could with the understanding that anything uneaten could either be saved for later or given to Rapunzel. Rapunzel ordered two different omelets and a raw trout, the latter of which she'd had to invoke sushi in order to get past what she still considered to be “those pesky health regulations.” Howl had to give detailed instructions to the waitress to omit certain things from their selections. When the orders were taken and the waitress had shuffled off to the kitchen, Eugene looked over at Howl and Neil.

“So, how often do you take your wives out to eat? It looks like it would be more trouble than it's worth.”

“It's rare,” said Neil. “But she's worth the trouble,” he added glancing lovingly at Nalaya who smiled and batted her eyelashes bashfully.

“Truth be told,” said Howl, “half the time, Sophie and I don't even share the same meal. Don't get me wrong, we nearly always eat together, but we'll eat completely different food. It was even worse on Ingary. We almost never ate the same thing. Here, though, more Earth food is edible and palatable to both of us than on Ingary.”

“It sounds complicated,” said Liesel.

“You have no idea,” said Howl. “It was even more so when Morgan weaned off his mother's milk. As an interspecific hybrid, we didn't know what he'd be able to eat. It turns out it's even more complex for him. Neil wrote a Master's-level dissertation just on Morgan's gastronomy. So believe me when I say that we could both talk about it all day.”

“Well,” said Neil apologetically, “I kind of had to if we were to avoid poisoning him. When you look at it, it's no more complicated than our own biochemistry. It's just...different.”

Their conversation drifted to hiking and their upcoming itinerary. Eugene went over what it was supposed to have been had it just been himself and Rapunzel. They spent a good deal of time looking at the maps and deciding on a new plan. For example, they were supposed to crank out at least thirty miles that day, the next and the one after. Now they were down to no more than a dozen or so every day until Cascade Locks. They had originally expected to be north of Mt. Thielsen by nightfall. Now they'd only be on the flats coming off the northern base of Mt. Mazama.

Eugene was initially disappointed at having to dial back their progress. He'd grown used to laying down the miles, to getting up at the butt-crack of dawn and walking nearly nonstop all day long and stopping only when it grew too dark to see. Rapunzel, on the other hand, was excited about it in her particularly perky way. She saw it as an opportunity to slow down, actually enjoy the scenery more than they had when it was flying by in a blur, and share it with more of her people. She also hoped some of their other hiker friends would catch up to them, particularly GreyJay and Suncup who'd gone into Ashland the morning the Fitzherberts had left Callahan's to continue north.  
When their food arrived, they all dug in with abandon. Everyone felt more hungry than they'd have otherwise expected. Eugene supposed it had something to do with the previous night's activity, but he tactfully kept it to himself. The Jenkins family was engaged in some discussion in Ingarian which Eugene figured to have something to do with their food. Occasionally, someone would hand something to someone else, or they'd pick something up and wordlessly deposit it onto Rapunzel's plate. Eugene noticed that she was at least making an effort to thoroughly chew.

When they'd all finished their food, Howl paid the bill, leaving a very generous tip which he felt their waitress more than deserved. They picked up their gear and Howl checked out, paying all their bills, which amounted to over a thousand dollars. Harold protested on the grounds that he was a King and should at least pay for his own room and that of his daughter and son-in-law. Howl insisted on the grounds that he had more money than he could easily spend and Harold didn't have any US currency anyway. He also reminded Harold that the financial end of things constituted part of his wedding gift to the Fitzherberts. Harold finally relented and, after a few minutes, they all marched out the door and crossed the road to meet the trail.

*****

They stood atop the Wizard Island Overlook peering eastward. The small cone of that name protruded from the lake. Neil shared some of the pertinent geological information. He held his wife's hand as her emotions bubbled up. Soon the Ingarian women began to sniffle a little and their husbands put their arms around them, which was a little awkward what with everyone wearing packs and carrying trekking poles. When everyone had recovered, they reached a consensus that they'd hike a little longer and then do lunch.

Two hours later, they sat alongside the trail just south of its crossing of the Rim Drive, happily eating their lunch. The Ingarians seemed to have worked past their recent episode of grief and were now thoroughly enjoying their last view of Crater Lake. A cool, stiff breeze blew up from the water to contrast nicely with the warm air at their backs. Soon they'd be down on the dry flats and it would be a long seventeen miles until the next water source.  
Having finished their lunch, they downed some more water and prepared to move out. The rest of their route that day was downhill or flat and they made very good time. They camped atop a low rise just after the trail left a dirt road it had followed for a mile and a half. It was a dry spot, but Eugene had chosen it because there was room for everyone and, unlike some of the flat depressions below, cold air wouldn't settle there. They all ate a cold dinner and went to bed, dreaming of the water they'd find on the north side of Mt. Thielsen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Often, fellow backpackers present some real gems to the rest of the hiking community. This treatise on the all-you-can-eat buffet is one of them:
> 
> http://1000awesomethings.com/2008/12/29/864-mastering-the-art-of-the-all-you-can-eat-buffet/
> 
> And, of course, it's not just helpful on the trail, but can also aid in your enjoyment of buffets elsewhere.
> 
> Crater Lake Lodge was built by the Works Progress Administration. Info, restaurant menus and so fort are viewable at http://www.craterlakelodges.com/ It's a neat place...you should go there.
> 
> Crater Lake itself lies in what remains of a large stratovolcano. Before it exploded, it probably looked a lot like the Three Sisters volcanic cluster. See "In Search of Ancient Oregon" by Ellen Morris Bishop, for more information on the mountain's geology.
> 
> Some of the botanical information comes from the Oregon Flora Project www.oregonflora.org.


	15. Odell Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rapunzel makes a confusing discovery.

Rapunzel awoke with a start. She felt weird, although she was unsure why. She could sense a familiar feeling welling up inside and it worried her greatly. What she did know was that she needed to get out of their tent immediately. She quickly rolled over, unzipped the door and vaulted out onto the conifer duff outside, thankful she'd worn her sleeping tunic to bed. It was just growing light enough to see. She looked over at nearby Odell Lake, but its heat-absorbing water was too far. The next available open space was the campground access road in the other direction. She sprinted toward that and stopped in the middle. She knew it still wouldn't be big enough, but it would have to do.

Eugene, having been awakened by Rapunzel's sudden exodus, rose up from behind their tent, looking around for her. When he saw her, he began to walk in her direction, but she held out her hands in a “stay-away” gesture. He didn't stay away, but she didn't want to risk awakening any of the other nearby campers by speaking loudly about it either, not least because she didn't want to have to evade the inevitable questions.

He was within ten meters when she finally spoke, still trying to keep her voice down. “No, Eugene! Don't come any closer!”

“What?”

“Stay away! I'm going to discharge!”

“You are?” he said uncertainly. “But why?”

“I don't know. I just am.”

Just then, Liesel emerged from her and Harold's tent, holding a hand to her abdomen and looking a bit green around the gills. She glanced in Rapunzel's direction, just as WHUMPH! A large ball of fire, still smaller than the one she'd set off at Agua Dulce, rose from her, scorching everything within a five-meter radius. Liesel's eyes grew wide and she turned and retched into the bushes while Eugene winced at both women.

Harold and the rest emerged as Eugene was leading Rapunzel back to their encampment. Sophie, Lettie, and Nalaya all had violent hiccups. Harold, seeing that his daughter already had assistance, went to see to his own wife.  
“I'll be alright, dear,” said Liesel. “But I could use some water and something to rinse out my mouth.” Harold went to go find her something. Liesel looked over at Rapunzel as she and Eugene approached. “Elsa, dear, are you alright?”

“Yes, mama,” she said, “I don't know what happened.” She paused. “Alright, I know _what_ happened, but I don't know why. I feel fine now, though.”

Sophie walked over to them, placed a hand on Rapunzel's forehead and closed her eyes. A moment later, her eyes flew open. She squeed and hugged Rapunzel. She stepped over to Liesel and placed a hand on her forehead. After a moment, she squeed again and hugged Liesel. She repeated it for Lettie and Nalaya.

“What was all that?” said Eugene. Whatever it was, Sophie was very excited about it.

“We are all...” Sophie hiccuped again. “We are all with child!” she said excitedly.

“What?” said all the men nearly in unison.

“We are...hiccup...with child!” repeated Sophie.

“How...how far along are...we?” said Liesel.

Sophie paused and thought for a moment. “Five days.”

“All of us?” said Rapunzel.

“Yes,” said Sophie.

“How did that happen?” said Eugene.

Harold stepped over to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Son, when a man and a woman...”

“Yes, yes,” he interrupted with a touch of exasperation and a rolling of the eyes, “I know _how_ it happens.”

“He knew you knew that,” said Howl with a chuckle. “He was just giving you a hard time.”

“I meant how did _all_ of our wives get pregnant at the _same_ time? The odds of that happening are...well, slim I'm sure.”

“Indeed they are,” said Howl.

“It was me,” said Sophie. Her hiccups, as well as those of her sister and cousin, had tapered off considerably.

“What?” said the men, again nearly in unison.

“It was me,” repeated Sophie. “I wanted...” she trailed off and then started speaking quickly in Ingarian.

Howl interpreted for those who didn't speak the language. “Sophie wants another child...badly...very badly. When she gets something like that into her head, it progresses from a passing fancy to a resolute and unyielding need. It came to a head that night at Crater Lake. You've all seen some of what Sophie can do. What you might not know is that she's the most powerful empath any Ingarian has seen in at least ten generations. Most children happen more or less by accident. Between humans and Ingarians, it's different. Sophie and I are the first such couple to be successful. She had to will it to happen with Morgan and even then, she had to constantly...tinker with things throughout the entire pregnancy. So she focused her will that night and...well, it overflowed.”

“Overflowed?” said Eugene. “She wanted to have a baby, so she made the rest of us have them too?”

“It's more complicated than that, but essentially, yes.”

“And that's why we all...grew amorous...at the same time?” said Harold.

Sophie nodded.

“And why you all ovulated, fertilized and implanted more or less at the same time,” said Howl.

Eugene frowned at Sophie. “So we're all going to have babies just because _you_ wanted one?”

Rapunzel jabbed him in the ribs. “Eugene!” she scolded. “I want one!”

“Me...also,” said Nalaya.

Lettie nodded her head vigorously. She and Osric had been trying for some time and she'd begun to lose hope of ever getting pregnant, despite repeated attempts by Sophie to coax her sister's systems into cooperating.

Liesel looked worried. “I'm a bit...old for this,” she said.

“Nonsense, Mama,” said Rapunzel. “You've done this before, you'll be fine.” Rapunzel was unsure how much of that was wishful thinking on her part and how much she truly believed it. She was ever the optimist, but she had to admit that she knew absolutely nothing about how the whole thing worked, let alone what to expect. Her mother had talked to her about it right after she'd announced her engagement, but she'd been rather vague beyond certain generalities.

“And...there were others,” said Sophie.

“You mean, other couples in the lodge?” said Eugene.

Sophie nodded.

“Oh, dear,” said Liesel.

“I guess they're in for some surprises,” said Harold with a chuckle. He turned to Liesel. “So I suppose that was...morning sickness?”

Liesel nodded.

“And the hiccups?” said Eugene, looking at Sophie.

“That is...our mor...mor....”

“Morning sickness.” Howl finished the sentence for her.

“That's better than mine,” said Liesel.

“But having hiccups for maybe a half hour every morning for three months?” said Howl.

“Wait,” said Rapunzel, her eyes widening in alarm. “That discharge...” Her voice trailed off. She put her hands up to her head and groaned. “That's...that's _my_ morning sickness!” She turned to her husband and grabbed his shirt with both hands. “Eugene, I'm going to be doing that every morning for the next three months! Oh, dear....” She thumped her forehead into his chest and Eugene put his arms around her.

Harold and Liesel looked at each other worriedly.

“Should we...what's that word...bail?” said Eugene.

“Maybe we all should sit down and eat breakfast before we go making any rash decisions,” said Howl.

They all went to their tents for their breakfast food and convened at a nearby picnic table. Fortunately, no one else had yet stirred. After much discussion, they came to an agreement. They'd continue hiking as long as everyone was up to it and as long as nothing about any of their pregnancies came to prove problematic. The women were to eat extra protein and Sophie was to monitor everyone at least once daily for the duration of the hike. She would also assist Nalaya in making all the necessary adjustments to ensure that her own baby developed normally and healthily. Howl was the only one of the men who wasn't extremely nervous about the whole affair. Eugene and Rapunzel went over to the boat ramp for their sunbath while Sophie gave Nalaya a crash-course in dealing with an Ingarian-human hybrid fetus and helped her make the initial genetic adjustments to her incipient child.

When everyone was back together, they struck camp and headed back to the PCT. They were in remarkably high spirits, given that morning's shock. Nothing out of the ordinary happened the entire remainder of the hike. Liesel threw up a little stomach bile every morning. Sophie, Lettie and Nalaya all had hiccups for between a quarter and a half hour. Rapunzel discharged, usually before her sun-bath, always managing to make it to a safe or safe-ish spot—sometimes actually IN some water--and always extinguished anything she set on fire in the process.

*****

The group were spread out along the shore of North Rosary Lake. It was a good place for a break. The Ingarian couples were happily babbling away in that language. Eugene really wished he knew more of it. It wasn't so much that he was nosy--although he was and it was something both Rapunzel and the King had been trying to help him overcome, despite its usefulness to him in his position as Royal Chief of Security—as much as he liked the sound of it. Otherwise, he was distracted.

He sat down next to his wife and handed her a water bottle, which she accepted and then greedily chugged. She handed it back to him, smiling weakly. He squeezed her hand and smiled, then leaned over and kissed her before gazing out across the lake.

“Wow,” he said after a long pause. “We're...having a baby.” He exhaled. “Rapunzel, how am I going to support a baby?”

“Eugene?”

“Your father does pay me a small living allowance...”

“Eugene?”

“...it's not that I'm ungrateful, really, but it's not that much and...”

“Eugene!”

“What?!” He sighed again. “I'm sorry, honey.” He looked into her eyes in that way that told her he was listening now.

“Eugene, I'm Crown Princess, remember? I really don't think it's going to be a problem.”

“I...I didn't think about that. You're right. But where am I going to find time for a baby?”

“We do have staff, you know.”

“Staff? Honey, I was raised by staff. And you weren't raised by your real mother. I really don't want our child raised by someone who's not us.”

“People with time-demands raise their own children all the time. I have no idea how it's going to work either, but we'll figure it out. We still have a couple of months of hiking and then several more before the baby's born. We have time to make whatever arrangements we decide. Maybe I can talk Daddy into giving you some time off.”

“He's already giving me time off to do this,” he said, gesturing to the forest around him.

“I know. Aren't you the one who'd always talking about...how do you put it...the perks of being in charge?”

Eugene nodded.

“I know how creative you are when it comes to things like that. We'll think of something.”

Eugene slid an arm around his wife's waist and placed his other hand on her belly.

“There's nothing to see yet, you know,” she teased.

“Just knowing he's there...”

“She.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just a feeling,” she said with a slight shrug.

“I love you,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her tenderly. She returned it and he was pretty sure he could feel himself start to glow.


	16. Dumbell Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene and Rapunzel grind through the first couple of weeks of her pregnancy...which is so very different from any other pregnancy in history.

Outlaw's Log  
August 28, 2011  
Dumbell Lake  
Miles: 16.4 Trip miles: 1956

I awake to the now-familiar sound of Firewalker rushing from our tent. I exhale heavily as I listen to her hurried footsteps tramping through the forest duff, then the tell-tale slushing sound of her wading out into Irish Lake. Then, the _WHUMPH_ of her discharge, followed by the splashing sound of displaced water rushing into a fresh void. Then I hear her slushing back out of the lake. By now, I'm up and exiting our tent myself just as she returns. I take her in my arms and just hold her. It's only been a week or so and it seems that this is already taking a toll on her. I really have no idea how to help.

I glance up just as Liesel emerges and spews the now-also-familiar bile into the bushes. Harold comes up behind her and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It seems he doesn't know how to help her either. I hear hiccups coming from the Ingarian tents, too. I suppose none of us has any idea what to do for our wives other than just be there for moral support.

It's overcast today, so we don't get our sun-bath. That's too bad, because I know Firewalker could really use it. It's not that she couldn't use it every morning, but it seems she could use it more on this morning in particular, though I'm unsure what would set it apart.

Firewalker seems to always be thinking with her stomach. She grabs two trout on her way out of the lake. We've been pulling those out of every lake we've passed since we crossed Hwy. 58. Believe me, there are enough of those here to choke a camel, as Firewalker would put it. I'm thankful for that, especially after those long, waterless stretches between Freye Lake and Crater Lake and then between there and the southern end of Sky Lakes Wilderness.

Those discharges must be taking a _lot_ out of her! She's been drinking water like a fish and killing and eating nearly everything that moves. I've had to remind her to share the protein with the others. It's not like her baby is really that big yet and in truth, one would not know just by looking at her that she's even carrying one. I suppose it's _way_ too early for that anyway. Could it be growing faster than normal? Or is it training for his...or her...own through-hike? It just occurs to me how ridiculous that sounds, since from our perspective, by the time the baby's born, the very idea of backpacking, let alone the PCT itself, won't even exist yet!

She's come to have this wild, predatory look on her face when she eats the wildlife. I find it a bit unnerving, although she always calms down afterward. I've mentioned this a couple of times, but she always looks at me as though I'm crazy. Is she truly unaware of herself at those times? I think it's making the others nervous, too, especially Harold. He's already still barely convinced his daughter's still human and this really isn't helping.

I'm glad none of the other hikers we've met have seen her at her worst. I'm also glad we still haven't run into that comatose guy from Old Station. I think he'd have dropped dead on the spot had he seen Firewalker in one of her fits of carnivory and I really would rather _not_ have to explain that to anyone.

All day long, it's been lake after lake, drink after drink, fish after fish, critter after critter. While there's not a whole lot of variation in the scenery, it's still pretty. Between the eating and the morning sickness, Firewalker still manages to look absolutely stunning. Even in mid-day, she still seems to glow just a little. I doubt most people would notice, but I do. She's so beautiful! I'm every-so-glad she still lets me make her glow, even after all that's happened...not every night, mind you, but still.... I'm definitely married to the hottest woman on earth!

*****

Firewalker's Log

I awaken to the now-familiar feeling of an imminent discharge. I burst from our tent and charge into the lake. It's a good thing my body gives me enough lead-time. This is already starting to wear on me and it's only been little more than a week! Still, it's interesting watching the water move back together after I've vaporized some of it. On the other hand, it's a bit painful when it slams into me. Fortunately, I recover quickly. Each time, I'm concerned it might be doing something to the baby, but Sophie assures me everything's fine.

As I emerge from the lake, Outlaw holds me for a minute. I can tell he's very concerned about me. He's been there for every one of Sophie's examinations, so he knows everything I do. I suppose he really doesn't know how I feel, but I do wish he'd relax. Having a baby is supposed to be a happy, joyous thing...so they say. It's certainly not much fun first thing in the morning and I can tell Mama would agree!

I'm disappointed that we don't get our sun-bath. I suppose I knew that would happen sooner or later, I was just hoping it would wait until Washington. I also wasn't expecting to have to deal with it _and_ being pregnant. I'm glad there's a lot of water. I've been _so_ thirsty and I'm not sure why. Sophie says my body temperature is up a degree, so maybe my metabolism has increased a little. So little is known about sun-bearers having babies...alright, _nothing_ is known about sun-bearers having babies! It suddenly occurs to me that I'm a pioneer in this area. This is so exciting!

I'm also even hungrier than usual and I'm killing and eating everything that moves. I'm kind of glad GrayJay isn't with us. I'm not sure how he'd feel about me eating his namesake animal. I'm making everyone nervous when I eat. I don't know why. Eugene says I have this sort of wild, predatory look in my eyes when I do. I have no idea what he means...he must be imagining things.

The whole day is one continuous string of water-fish-squirrel, water-fish-bird, and so forth. It's still pretty out here, though. Outlaw is having trouble keeping his hands off me and he's having even more trouble keeping his eyes off me. That's a good thing, as it keeps me feeling loved and beautiful and feeling like a real woman instead of some unnatural...thing. I suppose that's why I let him make me glow...that and, well, I really like it and so does he!


	17. Sisters

The Fellowship stood atop Koosah Mountain. The trail crested in a small clearing that gave a clear view north. The rounded bulk of South Sister dominated the valley below, snow still clinging to the cap of red basaltic cinders that seemed ready to slide off the summit at any moment. The much smaller ruin of Broken Top was barely visible east of South Sister. Middle Sister peeked out from behind her southern sibling's western flank, North Sister still hidden. They recognized the expanse of the Wickiup Plain to the northwest where they would be in another couple of hours.

“Look!” squealed Rapunzel. “South Sister's a red-head! She's a fiery red-head, just like me!”

Eugene stepped up beside her and grinned at her, then leaned down and kissed her.

Liesel slowly shook her head. “She sees beauty in everything, doesn't she?”

“She takes after you,” said Harold.

“No, I think she takes after _you_ ,” she replied.

“She takes after both of you,” Eugene insisted.

They remained there for a few minutes looking at the view, the map, and comparing the map with what they saw before them. After a goodly pause, the group descended, careening down through fir and hemlock forest, across small colonies of mountain heather, finally bottoming out at a trail junction near a lake. Another lake just to the north supplied water and the group took a late lunch at the edge of another stand of firs that gave out onto the wide, rolling expanse of the Wickiup Plain.

Lunch eaten, they all trudged out onto the plain. It lay in a small basin, surrounded on all sides by low hills, South Sister and the blocky, obsidian lava flow of Rock Mesa dominating the entire valley on its northern end. A thin carpet of lupine, wild buckwheat, pussytoes and bunch grass covered its fine, cindery surface. While the vegetation wasn't nearly as thick as what they'd seen in the Siskiyous, it still broke the grey monotony quite nicely. Had they been there first thing in the morning, they'd have seen frost as cold and damp collected in the lower spots across the valley floor.

The plain itself was not nearly as flat as it appeared on the map, the surface one big, rolling set of undulations, as though the sea had congealed into volcanic ash, to be trapped for all time in this mountain valley. They made very good time across it, eventually coming to a point where the trail climbed to a cleft between the obsidian mass of Rock Mesa to the east and The Wife to the southwest.

A short time later, they made the tiny drop into Mesa Meadow where they were to make camp that night. South Sister loomed over the little meadow, spilling its snow-melt down the wide, shallow stream that flowed through it. A small clearing among firs and mountain hemlocks lay a meter back from the meadow's edge and just southwest of a small log bridge spanning the stream. That put them just barely out of the worst of the cool and damp that was to settle in the low spots overnight.

Eugene pitched their tent just inside the clearing's opening so that Rapunzel would have a quick, clear route of egress to the meadow in the morning. The others pitched theirs in one of the several other spaces, including one on the other side of an irregular ring of rocks marking a tiny fire-pit.

They all retired to some nearby logs looking across the meadow. Lupines lined part of the stream and the rest was peppered with penstemon, aster, pussytoes, and grasses. Rapunzel gnawed on a chunk of venison jerky. She glanced over at Nalaya, who was munching on a lupine stalk.

“Why do you get to eat the pretty stuff and I'm left with boring things like cow parsnip?” said Rapunzel.

“You...you...” she sighed in exasperation and continued in Ingarian.

Rapunzel cocked her head inquisitively. She caught a little of it, but still not quite enough to understand what Neil's wife was trying to say.

“She says,” explained Neil, “that just because it looks pretty doesn't mean it tastes any better than the vegetables you eat. The only reason she eats what she eats and you eat what you eat is because what she eats is poisonous to you and visa-versa.”

Rapunzel shrugged, then smiled at Nalaya. Then she put an arm around her friend and gave her a sideways hug. The Ingarian briefly stiffened, but then relaxed. “You're still hung up on the fact that I'm Crown Princess, aren't you?”

Nalaya nodded. “Ai.”

“If it helps any, half the time I still think of myself as merely the girl in the tower.”

Nalaya raised an eyebrow.

“That's what I was for eighteen years. It's been barely four years since I came home. Princess or not, I'm still me. I put my dresses on over my head, just like you do.”

Nalaya smiled, then bit into her lupine stalk with renewed enthusiasm.

They continued to sit at the edge of the wood, watching the setting sun reflecting off of South Sister while they ate dinner. As the last of the sun's rays drifted off the summit, Rapunzel thought she saw a brief green flash. They sat there a few moments longer. Rapunzel went down to the creek for a good draught of water before joining Eugene in their tent.

* * *

The Fellowship crested a rim over which flowed Obsidian Falls. A small meadow greeted them, its short grass appearing to have been kept cropped by something. A small, wide stream flowed through it. It sprang fully formed from Sister Spring at the base of a wall of rock. The little meadow itself was hemmed in by more rock. They all drank their fill from the stream. No one bothered to treat their water. Sophie had magically eliminated that necessity much to everyone's relief.

After a short break, they continued northward across the rhyolitic rocks surrounding them. Obsidian glinted from every conceivable surface. In many places, it looked like someone had taken several tons of broken bottles and scattered them across the small flats and plains through which the trail traversed for nearly a mile. It gleamed in the light.

“Ooo!” said Rapunzel cheerily. “How pretty!”

“That's bright,” said Howl, a note of displeasure in his voice.

“Oh, you're just jealous because you can't appreciate it like I can.”

“Hrmph.”

Rapunzel leaned over toward a large lump of rock. It was so dark and smooth, it almost looked wet. “Eugene, look!” She pointed at the bits of the black, glassy rock embedded in the white, ropy-looking feldspathic component of the obsidian flow around them.

Eugene stepped up beside her. “It's...something alright.”

“Just look how the light plays with it! It's gorgeous!” She stood there gazing at it, her eyes moving from one part of the great mass to another. She reached down and picked up a piece, then held it up to the sun. She turned it first one way and then another, just looking at it. “You can actually see the sun shining through it! And look at that texture!” She pointed to something that looked like it was inside the rock. Eugene wasn't completely sure what she meant, but he did know she was quite taken with it. At last, she tossed the rock back onto the ground with a sigh and turned to walk northward again.

Eugene waited until she'd gone a good dozen paces and then, when he didn't think anyone was looking, he bent down and picked up several small pieces. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with them. He just knew his wife loved it. Surely no one would miss it.

Neil stepped over to him. “Um,” he said quietly, “you do know it's illegal to take any of that, don't you?”

“The stuff's been here for thousands of years,” said Eugene in an equally hushed tone. “Second, there are literally tons of it. Third, taking things is...well, was...my specialty. Fourth, I dare anyone to arrest me once I'm back home.”

“Good point. But don't say I didn't warn you.”

Eugene regarded Neil for a moment. “So noted.” Eugene placed the rocks into his fanny pack. He'd figure out how to wrap them later. Maybe he could pass them off to Megan at their next resupply and then retrieve them again before returning home. Yes, that would work. It would let him keep them a surprise and he wouldn't have to carry them. With a smile on his face, he took off after the others.

* * *

They reached the crest of Opie Dildock Pass in mid-afternoon. Eugene looked down at the series of switchbacks they'd just ascended. The trail had been all but blasted out of the long-cooled basalt wall that flowed out of Collier Cone, the pile of red cinders that stood above them to the east. White, sun-bleached pine trunks lined the cinders above them to the left, reminding them of the White Tree of Gondor, but in multiple duplicates, their skeletal branches frozen in the positions they'd taken in response to the winds that sometimes howled through the gap.

“I barely believe we just came up that!” said Sophie, gasping for breath at the nearly seven thousand foot elevation. She turned to her fellow Ingarians. “Soshobuka?” are you all well, she asked them. They nodded one by one, even while gasping for breath themselves.

“Don't worry,” said Neil, “we'll be dropping back down to a more reasonable altitude soon. We won't see this again until Park Ridge near Mt. Jefferson.”

“Wow!” said Rapunzel, her head swiveling about. She reminded Eugene of nothing short of an owl, which was nothing new, for she'd been doing that over and over and over since Campo. It always made him smile. “Look at all of that!” She pointed up to North Sister towering above them and to the immense Collier Glacier wedged between that volcano's jagged, reddish-black mass and Middle Sister's contrasting grey, conical form immediately to the south. Fissures and crevasses in the glacier showed blue-ish through the otherwise glaring whiteness of the ice. Flat, glassy surfaces glinted and glared here and there in the afternoon sunlight. Rapunzel threw her arms wide, drinking in the reflection. “Feed me!” she said.

“What?” said Eugene.

“Can't you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The light, of course. It's...oh, Eugene. I...I think I can photosynthesize.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

Rapunzel nodded. “I can feel it. And it's wonderful. You'll be able to do it too.”

“Whoa,” said Eugene. “Is that going to reduce your caloric demand?”

“I don't know. Maybe. It took a while to notice I can do it at all. I already know I can redirect sunlight into heat. And, of course, it feeds the sun-tears and sun-blood. I suppose it just makes sense that I can redirect it into other things too.”

Howl stepped up behind them. “I still think she's dangerous,” he said.

Rapunzel rolled her eyes, turned around and gasped. “Look!” She pointed northward. Everyone followed her gaze. Four volcanoes stretched out before them, all lined up one after the other. Mt. Washington was closest, its dacitic plug sticking up like a horn. Then Three-Fingered Jack, its jagged ruin discernible even from where they stood. Mt. Jefferson's conical form dominated the view, then finally the bulk of Mt. Hood off in the distance.

“Grand Coulee Dam!” exclaimed Howl.

“It's something, innit,” said Neil. “That there is our road.”

“And it's _not_ ,” said Rapunzel, “the long dark of Moria!”

“Indeed not.”

“You're so cute,” said Eugene. Rapunzel just smiled and oscillated.

They all stood there for several minutes gazing at the line of mountains. The trail would take them around the western flanks of each one. After a few photographs were taken, the fellowship began to wind down along the rocky spine toward the beckoning water of Minnie Scott Spring a half-mile away.

* * *

“Bonneville Dam!” exclaimed Howl. “That's a lot of lava!”

They all stood along a high spot where the trail crested the northwestern flank of Yapoah Crater. Laid out before them, a nearly-unbroken expanse of basalt spread nearly as far as they eye could see.

Lettie whimpered. Osric squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Please tell me we're going around,” said Liesel.

“Nay,” said Neil. “See that?” He pointed at a low cone just to the left of Mt. Washington. “That's Belknap Crater. We have to go over it. It's a good thousand-foot elevation gain over nearly two and a half miles.”

“Then at least,” said Harold, “tell me we're not doing in the afternoon.”

“Yes,” said Sophie, “that would be...hellish.”

“Quite right,” said Neil. “That's what I did last time. It was no fun. No, we'll do it in the morning.”

“Aw,” said Rapunzel, a note of disappointment in her voice.

“Yes, Princess,” said Neil, “we all know you love the heat, but it's murder on the rest of us. But doesn't it suck water out of you?”

Rapunzel shrugged. “I hadn't thought of it much, but I suppose it does.”

“Think about it. Even those of us with normal metabolisms need a _lot_ more water when we're doing this sort of thing. That elevated metabolism of yours requires even more.”

“Well,” said Eugene, “ _I've_ noticed.”

Rapunzel considered her husband warily.

“What?” he said. “I remember how you plastered your face over every one of those drinking fountains at Burney Falls and the way you tried to drain several lakes in the Klamaths and...” He broke off under Rapunzel's glare. 

“It's not a bad thing, I'm just saying....”

Rapunzel cocked her thumb at all the lava. “It's pretty,” she said flatly.

“Well,” said Eugene pensively, “maybe like the soles of your feet.”

Rapunzel glared at him again.

“What?”

“Eugene,” said Harold, “now would be a good time to stop talking.”

“But...”

“Take it from a man who's been married longer than you've been alive.”

“He's right,” said Howl, “shut up and hike.”

Eugene peered at Howl. “I outrank you.”

“And I'm the most powerful mage on Earth.” Howl made a twirling motion with his hand and Eugene felt his body twist itself around, driven by a force outside of his own muscles. “Now, hike,” said Howl. Eugene grumbled under his breath while Rapunzel did her best to stifle a giggle.

They dropped down off the cone and soon found themselves passing through a shallow canyon through the lava. Penstemons peppered the rocks and scattered conifers grew out of gaps where scant amounts of wind-blown soil had collected over centuries. At last, they emerged from the lava to cross a cindery slope, then cresting out over the low gap of Scott Pass and thence down to South Matthiew Lake.

As lakes go, it was a little larger than a pond, but deep and clear. A flat spot extended northward from its far side and the Fellowship made camp there. Everyone's moods improved dramatically after rest, hydration, food and, for most of them, sorely-needed shade.


	18. Mt. Washington

Eugene awoke well before dawn. He had no idea what time it was. In truth, he'd been wholly oblivious to time most of his life. In the Twenty-first Century, they called it being “event-oriented.” He'd always figured that when it was light, it was time to get up. When it was dark, it was time to go to bed. When he was tired, he rested. When he was hungry, he ate. It was one of the comforting things about life on the Trail. That had probably been the hardest thing about adjusting to life at the Royal Palace--everything was done by the clock!

Rapunzel was still asleep, but he was wide awake. The moonlight had turned the dome of their tent into one big, illuminated lamp shade. He soon conceded that returning to sleep was pointless. It was nice and warm under their sheet, next to his wife. But he appeared to have a case of restless leg and felt the need to stretch a little. He climbed out of their tent, being careful not to wake Rapunzel. The eastern sky was beginning to lighten. He did a few pull-ups on a low-hanging mountain hemlock branch. Then he stretched. The stretching felt good, so he did a few more of them.

They solar disc was mere minutes from breaking the horizon when Rapunzel burst from the tent. She muttered a greeting as she rushed past Eugene and dove into the lake. She discharged underwater. An orange flash diffused through the water, momentarily rendering Rapunzel as a human shape against its surroundings. The water clouded as hundreds of gallons of it were converted quickly to steam. It expanded quickly, erupting from the surface with a great splashing whoosh and the void was quickly replaced by cooler water.

Eugened cringed, knowing his beloved was being hammered by all the in-rushing water. That stuff was heavy! A few moments later, Rapunzel waded out of the lake and stalked up the shore, glowering at her husband. She was sopping wet, steam pouring off of her. While it made him a little nervous, his wife somehow managed to look cute like that. He couldn't help but smile. It must have broken through her mood because a smile of her own cracked across her face. She bumped her forehead against his chest and sighed. He instinctively put his arms around her, knowing even as he did that he was going to get wet. It seemed to calm her. She had the better part of three more months of that? Dear Mother of God!

By then, the others were emerging with their own usual consequences. Liesel seemed a bit tired of it already, too. The Ingarians, on the other hand, seemed none the worse for wear. Eugene wondered why women did that to themselves. More to the point, why did they let their men do it to them? He mentioned as much, and instantly regretted it as he drew multiple scowls from all of the wives. Rapunzel and Liesel quickly lightened up and informed him that first, it wasn't so much tiring as it was merely annoying and second, that men had very little idea just how immensely powerful the maternal instinct really was. He had little choice but to take their word for it, but it had been enlightening and he felt he understood his wife a little better, despite now having to pry his foot out of his mouth. Besides, they said, the conception part was fun. Eugene wholeheartedly agreed with that bit at least.

They decided to cook breakfast this morning, since they had the time. Rapunzel gazed longingly at the water, possibly thinking about fish. If there were any, they apparently weren't worth the trouble, for she refocused her attention on the trail food heating in the kettles. Neil still insisted on using his stove despite Rapunzel's objections—at least he let her light it. Eugene was unsure whether she'd been trying to prove something, or had just grown so used to doing things a certain way that it hadn't readily occurred to her that someone would have wanted to use a standard fuel. He made a mental note to ask her about that.

Breakfast eaten and camp struck, they all camelled up and left the lake. Cresting the rise, they had a great view of the day's hike. Belknap Crater lay before them, Mt. Washington rising above its eastern shoulder. They gathered around the map and traced their route up Belknap Crater. Was that ALL lava out there? Everywhere they looked, there was one vast expanse of basalt! Eugene knew he'd seen more granite at once in the Sierra and the basalt flows around them weren't any more open and exposed than that, but it somehow looked more intimidating.

* * *

Outlaw's Log  
August 30, 2011  
Washington Ponds  
Miles: 11.6 Trip miles: 2000.4

Approaching the road and stepping out of a small basalt canyon, Belknap Crater suddenly looms over us, having been hidden from view since our descent from South Matthieu Lake. The twin islands of green protruding from the sea of lava seem much larger than we know them to be both from the map and from this morning's vantage point. Neil persuades us to delay any breaks until crossing the road. As promised, a large unexpected flat area awaits us and we take second breakfast. It's one of those trailheads, complete with a couple of those motorized conveyances. No sooner do we arrive than Firewalker immediately spies a pair of large water jugs held in a wooden stand. How does she do that?

There's some disagreement on whether to call our meal second breakfast, elevenses, or early lunch. It's relaxing, whatever it is. Afterward, we camel up and begin our assault of Belknap Crater. At first, it's quite nice, climbing gently up through the trees. Crossing a lava isthmus, we skirt the edge of the lava field and before long, head off the edge of the uppermost island and onto the lava. Neil makes some comment about Beggar's Canyon, wherever that is.

The novelty of this wears off quickly. The tread is composed entirely of broken lava rock and moves a little with every step. Every third step slides backward as I push off. The occasional stray rock gets in the way. My pole tips keep getting caught between rocks, forcing me to pause and free them. The whole thing makes it darned near impossible to keep a steady rhythm and pace. This lava is notorious for tearing up shoes. Naturally, I'm concerned about Firewalker's feet. I'm not sure why, though. After all, we've hiked nearly two thousand miles over dirt, thorns, pine cones, snow, ice, and so forth and she hasn't had a single problem with her feet. You'd think I'd have learned by now how tough my wife is.

The climb is long, hot and exposed. Most of us are sweating profusely. We occasionally pass the odd clump of grass, small patch of penstemon or stunted conifer, but there's otherwise nothing up here but jagged rock and lichen. In a few places, all we can see in our line of sight is broken lava. It's hard to know if it would be worse under a dull grey sky than it is under this blue, sun-pierced one. The consensus is that _this_ is what hell might be like. Firewalker, Neil, and I think that bit along the LA Aqueduct might rival this for hellishness, but the others haven't been there. At least that's flat, in contrast to this steep, broken lava on which there's hardly any place to stop and rest, let alone camp. Neil says something about Mordor. Now, that reference I get. Every so often, we pause for a breather and look back. It's tough to tell how far we've gone, despite both Belknap Crater and the receding treed islands nearly always fully in view.

This trail is insidious. Just when you think you're nearly to the crest of a climb, you round a corner and are confronted with yet more climbing! At one point, we spot a pair of hikers far below us. We catch the occasional glimpse of them and while they appear to be slowly gaining on us, it's hard to tell for sure. At long last, after what seems like an eternity, we reach the saddle on this shield volcano between Belknap Crater to the northwest and Little Belknap to the southeast. We have a good northward view of the wildfire damage around Mt. Washington. We'll have lava _and_ a burned-out forest of dead, skeletonized tree corpses...oh, joy. We also have a great view southward and I briefly wonder what south-bound hikers might be thinking about what lies before them as they stand here. We can still see those two hikers further down on the trail and the consensus is that they'll catch up to us within the hour.

There's a nice flat spot below us on the north side of this crest, just a few paces from the trail. We make for that and stop for a break. Those two miles rivaled those snow-bound stretches in the Sierra for amplified distance! We're still sitting there when that pair of hikers crests the rise. They pause for what looks from here to be both a good look-around and some photographs before continuing our direction.

As they draw nearer, they begin to look familiar. It's GreyJay and Suncup! We beckon to them and they walk over to us. We invite them to join us as we hike and they gladly accept. That seems to make Firewalker happy—she really enjoyed the time we spent with them going through the Klamath/Siskiyous, matchmaking or not. We offer to prolong our break for them, but they assure us they'll catch up. I have no doubt about that. After a few more minutes, we rise and continue north.

The way down the northern side is initially much easier, being nicely graded and tree-blessed. We could have camped up here. The burned-out trees to the north provide some interesting views of Mt. Washington. Firewalker looks like she's trying to commit some of this to memory so she can paint it later. I'm really looking forward to seeing what she creates. As expected, the nicely-graded trail gives way to steeper, rockier bits, nearly a mirror-image of our ascent, only with a lot more vegetation.

We bottom out on some flats that could also have made for acceptable camping. I can tell it would be a good place for cold, damp air to settle, though, and it looks like some recent rains have created some pools, too. Neil assures us it's worth it to push on to the Washington Ponds anyway, so we do.

It's a good thing I've developed a sense for distance. Otherwise I'd be wondering where that spur trail is. It's also a good thing we have a guide. As promised, GreyJay and Suncup catch up to us halfway to that trail. It's an obvious one and the climb up to the ponds is short. Sure enough, there's an enormous flat spot. We drop our gear and nearly sprint the few dozen meters up to one of the ponds, water bottles in-hand. The water looks kind of brownish. Neil says it's tannin and other things from the conifer needles. Great—one huge kettle of fir needle tea. Firewalker doesn't seem to notice or care, she just shoves her face into it and starts drinking. She's so amusing.

After quenching our thirst, we return to the large flat area. There's a fire ring on one side and we set up our tents around its perimeter. Firewalker has to convince GreyJay and Suncup to move their intended spot on the grounds that she's going to need that whole area in the morning. She doesn't explain, but says that if they're up, they'll see. She does have a bit of a sadistic side—that, or she just doesn't feel like explaining it. I decide to keep my mouth shut and try to avoid getting myself into more trouble than I already am.

Firewalker kindles a fire in the fire-pit and we begin what we've all come to know and love as the through-hiker dinner operation. As before, GreyJay insists on handling his own kettle. It sure is nice to have a relaxing day, despite that brutal climb up Belknap. I say as much and the non-through-hikers among us vehemently disagree with my appraisal of the day's work. I suppose it's a matter of perspective, my being used to hard work not only as a through-hiker, but also having spent nearly my whole life like this. It's even nicer arriving in camp hours before nightfall.

We sit and eat while staring into the flickering fire. What is it about fire that's so mesmerizing? I glance at Firewalker and she's staring at it, too, although I have no doubt she perceives it quite differently than the rest of us do. GreyJay and Suncup bring us up to speed on their hike since we parted ways. They got married in Ashland! I kind of thought they'd give it a little more time, but...does this fall under Hike-Your-Own-Hike? They decided to pool their money and...splurge, as they say...at Crater Lake Lodge a few days after we did. They say it was a sort of on-trail honeymoon. Suncup thinks she's pregnant and Sophie confirms it. They're both quite shocked and I don't blame them. The rest of us are amused, though, having been through that ourselves not too long ago.

They also share some of their background with us, including a few things Firewalker and I didn't know. His name is Peter Jones and hers is Josephine Merriweather—well, I guess now it's Jones, too. It seems they're both distantly descended from German nobility.

We all spend what feels like forever afterward just staring into the fire, all trying to take control of our thoughts. I keep saying that my life can't possibly get any weirder and then it does. I really should embrace the fact that I'm an ordinary person living under extraordinary circumstances and that's just how things are going to be.

We're all about to turn in, when we notice another hiker approaching by head-lamp. It's Moose! We fill him in on all the recent...developments...and he seems more amused than dumbfounded. I have to tell him to leave the open space clear for Firewalker. Naturally, he's curious.

After we've all retired to our tents, Firewalker wants to glow. I'm still quite shaggy and I won't have a chance to shave until we reach Timberline Lodge, but she's insistent. Who am I to argue? It's not like that's a hardship. Besides, I want it too and she knows it.

* * *

Firewalker's Log

After breakfast, I drink more water as though I hadn't had enough of it first thing this morning. Can I _ever_ get enough water? It's not like I think I'll extinguish myself, but.... We have an excellent view of today's hike from a small rise north of the lake. Wow, that's a lot of rock! Neil says it's all lava and that it used to be liquid. I try to imagine what it must have looked like all glowing and oozing...and all that heat! Could I swim in it? That would be so much fun! Neil says there's this place called Hawaii where I could do that. I want to go there!

We lose our view, but then abruptly re-gain it. I love it when the trail does that! We slowly make our way up the side of Belknap Crater. This is hard! I mean, it's no more strenuous than anything else we've done. In fact, the passes of the High Sierra were _much_ more difficult, not to mention that climb up from Seiad Valley. Here, though, the rock's loose, my poles keep getting stuck between rocks and I keep stubbing my toes. At least it's nice and hot! Oh, how I love the heat...really, I do! No one else does, though, and I wish I could take theirs...wait a minute...I wonder if I can do that....

Does nothing grow up here? I know it shouldn't be any different than granite. How many days did we spend crossing lifeless stretches of that? Is it because it's hotter out here? Is it because we literally stepped from lush forest to bare rock? Is the moon like this? Neil says it is. How does he know? What's that? We can fly there in the twenty-first century? That's crazy! On the other hand, I've been to another planet, there are four people from that planet hiking with us, my husband, parents and I are from the past and I have pieces of three suns within me, so how crazy is it really?

We're taking a break on a nice flat spot when two hikers crest the rise. They look like the same ones we've seen closing on us for the last hour or so. It's GreyJay and Suncup! I'm so glad to see them! And they got married! And they're expecting! I'm so happy for them!

Our breaks are poorly-timed, but they promise to catch up to us in a while. I pause to gaze at Mt. Washington framed between burned trees. That's something else I want to paint...that and the pre-dawn view of those peaks lined up from the top of Opie Dildock...and so many others! This trail is an artist's paradise!

We bottom out where there would be some great dry-camping spots. We can see where some recent rain has pooled all over the place, so maybe it's best we're pushing on from here. In true through-hiker style, GreyJay and Suncup catch up to us maybe halfway to the Washington Ponds spur trail.

Not far up the spur trail from the PCT, we find the enormous campsite Neil promised. We all drop our packs, grab our water bottles, and race upslope to one of the ponds. The water's slightly brown. It's a giant tea infuser! Whee! I drop to my knees, shove my face into the water, and drink. It tastes _so_ good!

We make camp around a large fire ring. I have to tell GreyJay and Suncup to give me some room. Naturally, they ask why, but I tell them they'll see if they're up early enough in the morning. I really don't feel like explaining.

After a while, Moose comes trudging up the trail by head-lamp. He's really amused.

We all turn in and I convince Outlaw to make me glow. It's not like he resists, though. As we lay there basking in my glow, I lay against him, musing on my life. It's been a very unusual one, but I'm happy with it overall.


	19. Chapter 19

GreyJay awoke to the familiar sound of rustling nylon. It took him several moments to realize it came from a few meters away, rather than right next to him.

He felt the warmth of the female body next to him and smiled in the darkness. Besides the light weight, that was the other advantage of carrying a quilt. It made sleeping for two far less problematic, something that never would have worked with a standard mummy bag. He could certainly get used to that.

He opened his eyes to darkness, the night broken only by the glow of an LED head-lamp casting furrowed tree bark into light and shadow. Far overhead, the dark blue hint of the coming dawn gave the barest definition to the mountain hemlock branches towering overhead.

GreyJay slid out from beneath his quilt, the familiarity of a chilly mountain morning pricking at his bare torso. He slipped on his flip-flops and tip-toed across to where Moose busily went about his own morning routine.

“Long day ahead?” GreyJay asked quietly.

“Yeah,” said Moose.

GreyJay gazed across the clearing at the other tents. “Are you sure you're not just intimidated?”

At first, there was silence. “No, I'm not sure,” Moose replied. “I mean...Firewalker seems like a nice girl, but...” His voice trailed off as he turned to unclip the caribiner from the line that had held his hammock off the ground.

“You're wary of what she might do?”

Moose shrugged. “Sort of. I'm curious, sure. But I do need to make some miles today.”

“Think you'll make it to Rockpile?”

“Tryin' to make it at least to Shale, actually.”

“Thirty-two miles? Not bad.”

Moose rubbed his chin pensively. “No reason I couldn't cruise down those next four and a half to Milk Creek.”

“Neil says there's nowhere to tie up there.”

“So that little pond another couple of miles on?”

GreyJay shrugged. “Closer to forty miles. Sure, go nuts. The terrain's conducive. Hike your own hike, right?”

Moose chuckled. “Totally, eh.”

The sound of a zipper across the clearing caught their attention. In the gloom, GreyJay saw Firewalker crawl from her tent. She looked directly at the two men and groaned softly. She turned around, then took several steps backward toward the center of the clearing.

Rapunzel glanced over her shoulder. “Seriously?” she said quietly.

Moose leaned over. “Nice shoulder-blades,” he said into GreyJay's ear.

“It's twilight,” GreyJay responded. “We can barely see them. Besides,” he added, “I'm a happily married man.”

“And don't forget it,” Firewalker said. After a moment, she grunted. Then the air around her crackled. The crackling quickly became a sort of fwoosh sound as something orange materialized out of nowhere. It looked a little like fire. It suddenly rushed outward with a loud fwump, then just as quickly collapsed back toward Firewalker and vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving a great deal of residual heat in its wake.

“Whoa,” said Moose.

“Pretty cool, huh?” said GreyJay.

“That depends on your point of view,” said Firewalker, a clear note of exasperation in her voice. She trotted back to the tent, disappeared into it, then re-merged a minute later clad in her tunic. She trotted over to GreyJay and Moose. “There,” she said quietly. “Now you've seen it. Are you happy now?”

“That was...intense,” said Moose.

“That's a bit of an understatement,” said Firewalker.

Moose held Firewalker's gaze for a few moments. Then he turned, knelt down, and secured the remainder of his gear. “I...really should get going,” he said apologetically.

“Not because of me,” said Firewalker. She seemed either unsurprised by his reaction or unoffended. Perhaps both.

“Miles,” said Moose simply.

“He wants to make it past Shale Lake,” said GreyJay.

Firewalker nodded and grunted. One didn't spend four months on the trail and not know the drill when it came to hikers making miles. Never mind that they'd all discussed their potential hiking plans the evening before, which was yet another on-trail practice that went with the territory.

“Do you think Neil's going to budge on Rockpile Lake?” GreyJay asked.

Firewalker shook her head slightly. “I doubt it,” she said. “Besides, if it's as nice of a spot as he says it is, I think we'll all be thankful for pushing the miles.”

“All twenty-four of them.”

“We can handle it,” said Firewalker brightly.

GreyJay chuckled softly. Very little seemed to dampen Firewalker's optimism. That was one thing he liked about her. She couldn't hold a candle to his Suncup, though. Well, not metaphorically. It was just as well she was married to someone else anyway. A moan from behind him drew his attention.

“Mornin', beautiful,” he said. “You missed it.”

“If you mean Firewalker's, um, display,” she said, “no, not really. I was still half asleep, though.”

Firewalker nodded. “And you're not entirely sure what you saw,” she said.

“Pretty much.”

The unmistakable sounds of cinching tie-downs and the creak of shoulder straps told GreyJay that Moose was just a few minutes from heading out. He turned around.

“Well,” said Moose, “it's been real, it's been fun...”

“But it ain't been real fun?” GreyJay finished.

Moose chuckled. “Take off. Of course it's been real fun.” Moose shook hands with GreyJay, Suncup, and Firewalker, then disappeared down the spur trail toward the PCT.

GreyJay didn't know if he'd ever see the Canadian again. But that was another thing about trail life. Sometimes you saw the same people every few days for weeks on end. Other times, you'd see someone once and then never again. Or maybe you'd leapfrog with them for a week and then run into them again two months later. The point was, you never knew.

He helped his wife to her feet and she stepped into her own flip-flops. She placed a hand on her stomach and grunted. “Give me a minute,” she said. She loped several steps and threw up behind a tree.

“I'm still worried about you,” he said once she'd returned.

She picked up her water bottle, took a swig, swished it around, then spit it back out onto the base of another nearby tree. “You and me both.”

“Hmm,” said Firewalker, pensively tapping her chin. “Could be morning sickness.”

“What?” said Suncup. “Oh...uh...no, it's probably something else.”

Firewalker raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well...” Suncup trailed off. 

GreyJay turned back to Firewalker. “You said that's your morning sickness?”

“Ja,” she said, cringing a little.

“That's a bummer.”

“I don't know about that,” she said, “but it's very annoying.”

“I don't doubt it.”

Firewalker turned back toward her tent as GreyJay and Suncup went about their familiar morning routine. He set up their little alcohol stove while she pulled out a bag of home-made granola containing cashews, dates, and pumpkin seeds. She portioned it into a pair of silicone bowls and mixed in some whey protein powder and a proprietary spice blend which included cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg.

Once the water had begun to heat, they both packed up their quilts and pads. They poured water on their cereal, then grabbed their water bladders and moved to fill up while breakfast soaked.

“You know,” said Firewalker from across the clearing, “I still say you could have let me do that.”

GreyJay shrugged. “Habit,” he said.

“HYOH,” said Suncup casually.

GreyJay noticed the other women in the group, Firewalker's mother throwing up behind a tree and the other women with audibly severe hiccups. “Are you sure you're all okay?” he asked.

“We are fine,” said Sophie, then hiccuped.

“Nothing another nine months won't fix,” said Firewalker. “Give or take a few weeks,” she added.

“Okay, then,” said Suncup uncertainly. “Well, we have a couple of spare hands. Does anyone need a fill-up?”

A flurry of activity produced a dozen different water containers.

“Erm,” said Neil, “there's more water about eight miles down the trail, not counting if we make the detour to Big Lake.”

“But most of us are nearly dry,” said Howl.

“And some of us,” added Firewalker, “are completely dry. You remember how much water I drink.” She paused, then snatched up two of her own bottles. “On second thought,” she said as she trotted toward GreyJay, “I'll join you.”

GreyJay shrugged and turned back upslope. Firewalker quickly caught up to him and his wife as they trudged up through the mountain hemlocks.

“Are you sure it's this way?” Suncup asked after a minute.

“Absolutely,” said Firewalker. “Neil's been here before. Besides, that much water makes a very effective heat sink. Trust, me, it's that way.”

Sure enough, as promised, another minute brought them over a slight rise, revealing one of the Washington Ponds. He'd noticed the open space between the trees, but it could just as easily have been a meadowy area like the one below the group's campsite.

Firewalker sprinted to the pond's edge and plunged her face into water. A minute later, she sat back on her bare heels, breathing heavily. “Oh, that's good!” she gushed.

GreyJay chuckled as he filled the first of his own bladders, being careful not to stir the water too much. The top couple of inches of any body of standing water was almost always clean, thanks to the sun's ultraviolet rays and the higher oxygenation tended to exclude the anaerobic bacteria responsible for diseases.

Neil had reported that he and other hikers had drank from the pond and had never come down with anything. That didn't necessarily mean much, but the evidence was compelling and besides, treating water was a pain, one he avoided whenever possible, which was mercifully easy to do along the PCT.

A few minutes later, they stood to return to camp.

“Uh...Pete?”

GreyJay turned to see Suncup peering at one of the clear plastic bottles she held.

“Does this water look brown to you?” she asked.

He peered at it. “Huh. You're right, it does.” He scratched his head pensively.

“Tea,” said Firewalker.

He and Suncup looked at her. “Huh?” said GreyJay

“Herbal tea, to be precise.” She grinned.

GreyJay looked back at the water. “Hmm. Cool!”

“Are you sure that's not toxic?” Suncup asked.

“They're conifer needles, honey. They're fine.”

His wife cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Have I given you a bum steer about anything edible yet?”

“That depends. Do eateries count?”

GreyJay sighed. “You're not going to let me live that one down, are you?”

Suncup shook her head, then grinned. “Nope.”

GreyJay chuckled. “I guess it's a good thing you love me, isn't it?”

She kissed him. “Very.”

“Newlyweds,” said Firewalker, then giggled.

The three of them trudged back to the clearing and handed everyone's bottles back to them.

“Yeah, we know it's brown,” said GreyJay. “And yes, it's safe.”

“Needle tea?” Neil asked.

“Uh...yeah. Like I said, it's safe.”

Neil thought for a few moments, as though he were searching his memory for something. “Okay,” he said at length.

Twenty minutes later, they turned north onto the PCT, everyone munching on various breakfast bars. GreyJay was thankful to be away from the burn area, though he knew that would last only a few more miles. They made good time descending the slopes of Mt. Washington.

A couple of fell-fields with penstemon, paintbrush, and Ericameria nauseolus waved at them from the rocks. Soon, the trail plunged back into conifer forest, the trail lined with broad-leaved lupine and Pedicularis racemosa.

Several miles north, they paused at a large pond.

“Lily pad pond?” asked Outlaw incredulously.

“He has a point,” said Firewalker. “Where are the lily pads?”

“No idea,” said Neil, with a shrug.

GreyJay scratched his head. They had a good point. Erik the Black's PCT Atlas labeled it “Lily Pad Pond.” In fact, it was more of a small lake and there were no lily pads whatsoever.

“Does it really matter?” he asked, shrugging out of his pack and digging out his partially empty water bladder.

“Of course not,” said Firewalker, ditching her own pack and thrusting her face into the water.

GreyJay chuckled. That woman could be so random. But the love of trailside water was something they all understood.

Their water break turned into lunch. Half an hour later, the familiar sound of rustling fabric and grunting voices accompanied their return to the trail.

“Hey, guys?” said Suncup. “Why don't you all go on ahead. My husband and I will catch up. Okay?”

“Sure,” said Outlaw. The others nodded and grunted in agreement.

When they were out of sight, Suncup turned toward him. “So,” she said, “about this baby I'm apparently carrying.”

Grey-Jay groaned.

“What? Look, I'm not trying to be difficult, but we do need to talk about this.”

“Honey, we have a lot of trail ahead of us. Can't we, I don't know, spread it out?”

“But it's bugging me and I need to get it off my chest.”

“I like your chest.”

“Thank you. I like yours, too. But you're evading.”

“I am not.”

“You are, too, and you know it.”

He exhaled heavily. That woman could sure be persistent. “Okay, fine. I'm evading. Are you satisfied?”

“Not even remotely.” She sighed. “Look, when I left Campo, I had no idea this was going to turn into my honeymoon. I don't want to spend the whole rest of our hike arguing about this.”

“Then don't.”

“But you're being difficult.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, Pete, you are.”

“No, Josey, I'm scared.” He was a little surprised he'd said that. He'd never fancied himself afraid of much of anything. Suncup blinked at him. “Yeah,” he said. “I'm scared.”

She laid a hand alongside his face, her trekking pole dangling from her wrist. “Of what?” she asked.

He stroked her hand. “I'm not ready to be a father.”

She shrugged. “I'm not sure I'm ready to be a mother. But we have several months to figure it out. And for what it's worth, I'm scared too. I'm the one who has to go through labor.”

GreyJay grimaced. “Yeah. Good point.”

“Just so you know, I'm still looking forward to meeting your family. If they're anything like you...”

“We'll all fight like cats and dogs?”

“Ha, ha. Look, you told me more than once that they'll like me.”

“They will. I'm just...it's just...”

“You're afraid of how they'll react to the whole pregnancy thing? Peter, I'm your wife. We didn't get pregnant until after we were married. It's not going to be that big of a deal.”

“You don't know my family.”

Suncup rolled her eyes. “No, I don't. But I will in about an hour or so. Surely they weren't expecting us to wait to start a family. Were they?”

GreyJay chuckled nervously. “Honestly, I have no idea. It actually depends on who you ask.”

“Whom.”

“Whatever.”

Suncup gestured toward the trail. “We really should get going. There's only one way to find out and we both know that knowing is always better than not knowing, even if things turn out to be less than ideal. However it goes, we'll just deal with it, just like the hike.”

“You're making too much sense, honey.”

Suncup shrugged. “One of us has to do it.” She turned around and strolled toward the several yards back to the PCT. GreyJay could have sworn she was deliberately swishing her tight behind. Maybe she was. It was, after all, one of his very favorite views. Like it or not, the only thing he could do was to follow her.

A couple of miles later, GreyJay and Suncup stepped from the short spur trail onto the gravel beside the asphalt of the trailhead parking area just north of Hwy. 20. He looked around, then spotted his family sitting against a railing near the outhouse. He waved, but their attention seemed fixed on the small building.

He groaned, then led Suncup over to them.

“Uh...guys?” he said.

His mom turned around. “Peter!” Her remark drew the attention of his dad, two younger sisters, and his uncle, all of whom greeted him with enthusiasm.

“So,” said his mom, “this would be your lovely wife, I take it.”

“Yes, this is my Josephine,” he said.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Suncup. She extended her hand to shake her in-laws' but they met her with hugs instead.

“Son,” said his dad, “she's pretty. Looks like you married a winner.”

GreyJay grinned. “I think so. She's pretty on the inside, too.”

Suncup nudged him in the ribs. “I think you liked that appendectomy a little too much.”

“What?!” exclaimed his mom.

Suncup grinned. “I'm kidding. I offered to show him my spleen, but he politely declined.”

“No, she's not kidding about that,” said GreyJay. “She really did say that once.”

“Sounds like she has an interesting sense of humor,” said his uncle.

“Um,” said one of his sisters, “is there another outhouse around here?”

“Uh...” He looked around. “I don't think so. What's...” He looked over and noticed Outlaw, Howl, and the others crowded around the outhouse door, talking with a woman, who was handing them things. Through the door, he could see another room that was decidedly not the inside of an outhouse. “What the heck? Excuse me, please.”

He walked over and stood behind Outlaw and cleared his throat.

“GreyJay!” said Outlaw.

Howl introduced his sister Megan. Her hair was a strange blend of green and pink.

“Be sure to ask about the hair,” Howl said quietly.

GreyJay cocked an eyebrow. “He says I'm supposed to ask you about your hair.”

Megan's eyes narrowed. “Howell Jenkins! I'm going to shoot you!” she said irritably.

GreyJay wasn't sure if she was genuinely insulted, or just feigning it. He decided there were elements of both. But now he was curious. Against his better judgment, he raised an eyebrow and said, “I bet there's an interesting story about that.”

Megan's nostrils flared. Then she said, “My nephew did this to me.”

GreyJay smiled. “At least it'll grow out.”

“Not yet it hasn't,” she said.

“Uh...” He suddenly felt the need to pry his foot out of his mouth.

Howl leaned over. “There was magic involved, in case you're wondering,” he said. The man sounded like he was ribbing his sister as much as informing anyone within ear-shot.

“I'll take your word for it,” said GreyJay, trying to back out of it.

“Hrmph,” said Megan. That made Howl laugh. Several moments later, Megan's mouth quirked upward and she broke out into laughter herself. “Howell,” she said, “it's a good thing your son's so cute.”

“Don't I know it,” said Howl.

“So, uh,” said GreyJay, “just how did this outhouse become...uh...”

“A portal to Wales?” said Howl. “Magic!”

GreyJay blinked. He wasn't sure he believed there was any such thing, but given what he'd seen Firewalker do, and also given that he could think of no other explanation for why someone's living room was clearly inside the outhouse door, he was beginning to change his mind about it. It also seemed to cast some light on what Howl had been saying about his wife and her people being extraterrestrials.

“Not to be rude...er...but I think some of us, meaning at least one of my sisters, need to use the first door. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” said Megan. “They're welcome to use mine if they want.”

GreyJay blinked. “Uh...okay?” He beckoned to his sister, who walked over.

She looked inside. “Um...why is there someone's living room inside an outhouse?”

“Magic, apparently,” said GreyJay.

“Yeah...right.” She didn't sound convinced.

“Your brother said you might need to use the loo. You're welcome to step in and use ours.”

“And that would be where?”

“Mountain Ash, Wales,” said Megan.

GreyJay's sister blinked. “Uh-huh.”

“Don't tell me you'd rather use a smelly outhouse than a clean bathroom,” said GreyJay. “I really don't understand women.”

“Oh, don't worry,” said Firewalker to GreyJay's sister. “The rest of us have been using it. It's quite clean. Believe me, it's a lot better than what we use in...uh...where I live.”

“What if they kidnap me?” said his sister.

GreyJay groaned. “Fine, I'll go with you. To Megan's house, I mean. Not to the bathroom. Because that would just be...uh-uh, not going there.”

“Peter,” said Suncup from behind him, “are you being difficult?”

“Not on purpose,” he said.

“If it makes you all feel better, I'll join your sister in Wales. It'll be less weird, if that's what's worrying you.”

GreyJay shrugged out of his pack and leaned it against the wooden railing. “Sure. I'm this close to washing my hands of it all. It's just getting me into trouble.”

Suncup laughed and shrugged out of her own pack. Then she and GreyJay's sister stepped through the door and disappeared into Megan's house. They returned ten minutes later.

“Whoa,” said Suncup.

“That's...bizarre,” said GreyJay's sister.

“You mean it really is magic?” he said.

Both women rolled their eyes.

“Yeah,” said Suncup.

“I didn't think there was such a thing,” said his sister.

“Huh,” was about all he could say.

Firewalker giggled. “Oh, GreyJay, you're so funny,” she said.

A little while later, GreyJay sat next to Suncup on the lowered tailgate of his parents' Dodge pickup, sipping on a cold RC cola. His dad had offered him a beer, but he'd declined. He'd never really developed much of a taste for it and he was trying to be sensitive to his wife's pregnancy.

“But are you sure?” his mom asked. “I mean, physical stress can delay your period. And this long-distance hiking is nothing if not stressful.”

Suncup sighed. “Yeah, I'm sure. There's the morning sickness, too. And the timing.”

“They have those tests,” said his sister. “They're supposed to be pretty accurate.”

“I thought about that,” said Suncup. “I suppose I could buy one in Cascade Locks, right?”

“Or,” said his sister, pulling something out of her purse and handing it to Suncup, “I could give you a spare.” Everyone stared at his sister. “What?” she said. “I thought you all knew about me and Dan. Mine came back negative anyway, so no worries there. But really, Josephine, go ahead. We'll all turn around while you do.”

“Wait, what?” said Suncup.

GreyJay groaned. “Guys, can we please try to be a little less, I don't know, redneck around my wife?”

“I do appreciate the help, really I do,” said Suncup. “It's just that I'm used to people being a little more...discreet about it.”

“Well,” said his mom, “I suppose we could talk about something else.”

“Sure,” said Suncup.

“Why don't we find out some more about this wonderful young woman my son's married?” suggested his dad.

GreyJay smiled. That was one of his favorite topics anyway.

* * *

GreyJay watched Santiam Pass retreat below him as he and Suncup labored up through the expansive burn area toward Three-Fingered Jack. Even that eventually vanished as the trail took them into the remaining tree-line that still clung to the mountain, an island in a sea of burned-out, sun-bleached forest.

They made camp beneath some hemlocks on a spur ridge overlooking Carl Lake some six trail miles north of the pass. That gave them a sixteen-mile day, which wasn't bad when one took into account the down time with his family and a continual climb on a full stomach and fully resupplied packs since then.

“I'm really sorry about that,” he said.

Suncup exhaled heavily. “You did warn me that your family's blue-collar, your words. I guess I just didn't really know what to expect from that.”

“And I was hoping they'd be on somewhat better behavior meeting my brand new wife. I should have known better. They really do like you, though. If they didn't, they'd have given you the cold shoulder. I know you're used to people showing it differently and I want to say you'll get used to it, but...no, you shouldn't have to.”

“It's just...different, is all. And unexpected. I'm not used to your socio-economic bracket any more than you're used to mine.”

GreyJay chuckled. “And when I meet your family, I'm sure I'll feel at least as out of place as you did this afternoon.”

He slid an arm under her neck and she snuggled up to him. At least that was a good sign.

“I peed on the stick, by the way,” she said.

“And?”

She sighed. “It's positive.”

“Whoa.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You mean besides finish our hike and then have our baby?”

“You really...want a baby?”

“Well...yeah. Don't you?”

“I don't know. I kind of thought I'd have more time before starting a family.”

“There were a lot of thing neither of us planned before starting our hike.”

She chuckled. “Here we are, doing the role reversal thing. You're the one all excited about it and I'm the one with the cold feet.”

“Hey, I had plans, too. The hike's kind of a metaphor for life. Stuff happens you didn't expect and you just roll with it.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“No idea.”

“I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too, Josephine.”

They kissed. The kisses deepened. One thing led to another...yes, GreyJay was definitely enjoying marriage.

* * *

GeyJay awoke to a lightening sky. Actually, it was probably the dozenth time he'd awoken since he and Suncup had finished up the evening before. Unfortunately, it had been a thunderstorm that had kept the both of them up repeatedly overnight.

It hadn't been the first one they'd encountered since leaving Campo, but it had been by far the closest. Many storms seemed to have been cloud to cloud. A few, like the one he'd seen on the Hat Creek Rim, had been cloud to ground. But last night's had seemed to have it in for Three-Fingered Jack.

Each strike seemed to hit just up the trail, the thunder crashing right on top of the lightning strikes. In fact, it had been so close, he'd smelled ozone all night long.

He groaned and pulled a half-asleep arm out from under his wife. She groaned, too.

“I hope we reach camp early,” he grumbled, “because I'm going to crash before dark.”

“Me, too,” she said as she lurched up and tottered to the edge of the small clearing.

GreyJay cringed as Suncup threw up onto the base of a hemlock. The morning ritual of mouthwash and breakfast was becoming second-nature.

The trail gave them a little time to limber up before climbing off the spur ridge, long switchbacks taking them up the mountain. The occasional view showed the cinder cone of Black Butte rising in the middle distance, a few wisps of smoke rising up from its silhouetted flanks.

They passed several large, flat areas that had clearly been used by hikers at one time or another. One particular spot, a small next to a small pool of water, bore the distinct smell of recently-burned plant matter, with the charring as witness to it. That must have been where at least one of the strikes had been.

But it was an odd spot for one. Lightning usually struck high points, but there were so many others nearby. It was curious.

They followed the trail across the west slope of the jagged leftovers of the stratovolcano and at length climbed up onto a high spur ridge that had once been part of the mountain's north flank. The massive, still-intact cone of Mt. Jefferson hunched on the horizon some twenty trail miles to the north, glaciers—some seasonal, some permanent—clinging to its slopes.

From the trail, Three-Fingered Jack's interior loomed raw and bare. Alternating layers of brick red basaltic scoria and gunmetal grey andesitic ash and lava lay at an obvious angle, in some places split by nearly-vertical dacitic dikes. GreyJay followed it into space with his eye, imagining a peak like Hood or Jefferson. Toward the base of a mass of talus, a low rim of grey volcanic gravel marked a cinder cone that had erupted some time after the rest of the mountain had been removed.

GreyJay smiled at the small crowd that stood crowded into the relatively small space before him, gazing at the mountain.

“I'm telling you,” said Firewalker, “it exploded!”

GreyJay and Suncup looked at each other, shrugged, then stepped up behind Neil.

Neil looked over his shoulder. “Nal-heratha!” he exclaimed.

“Uh...hi,” said GreyJay.

Neil exhaled. “You know something about the local geology, don't you?”

“Well...yeah. Why?”

“Will you explain to Firewalker what we're looking at?” Neil pointed at the exposed guts of the mountain curving around its eastern flank.

“You mean the way it was glaciated?”

“Thank you!” said Neil.

“No...it...wasn't!” Firewalker insisted.

GreyJay furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“This mountain clearly tore itself apart from a violent explosion.”

“Uh...no, it didn't. It was ground down by glaciers during the last ice age.”

“But the fracture pattern is totally wrong for that!” She gesticulated wildly. “Crater Lake had the very same pattern, only Three Eff Jay here blew sideways. I mean, you can see the debris field all over the place! The heat signature makes it obvious!”

“Heat signature?” said GreyJay dubiously.

Firewalker cocked her head. “Oh, don't tell me you don't have instruments to read heat signatures in the twenty-first century.”

GreyJay shook his head.

Firewalker's eyebrows went up. “Seriously? You have tools to measure everything else!”

“I don't know what to tell you, Firewalker. I really don't.”

“Besides that I'm right about this?”

GreyJay groaned. “Firewalker, you know I like you. Who doesn't? But you're arguing against the collective observations of hundreds of geologists going back a century!”

“Observations of people who have never observed this mountain's heat signature, you mean.”

Harold sighed heavily. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “is this really necessary?”

Firewalker looked at her father. “It's more relevant than half the discussions you've inflicted upon me.”

“Politics, my dear daughter.”

“Half of which is complete nonsense,” Firewalker retorted.

Harold chuckled. “I couldn't agree more. But this...” He gestured at the mountain. “...is not going anywhere. Nor will it care one way or another what any of us says about it. It does what it does because that's its nature and it will continue to do so regardless of what dismembered it or how long ago that happened.”

“Harold, dear,” said Liesel, “you talk about it as though it's an animal.”

Harold smiled. “Some people would say the mountains are alive. Personally, I've always thought that to be a metaphor, but I wonder. You and I have both seen things that have convinced me that Master Howl is correct about the universe being a lot more complicated than we think it is.”

“Besides,” said Outlaw, “we can argue about it later if we want, right? I mean, like you said, that mountain's not going anywhere.”

“And,” Neil added, “we'll be able to see it from time to time over the next couple of days anyway. So, shall we?” He motioned toward the set of switchbacks that cut into the debris below them before the trail angled north toward Minto Pass and the lakes beside it.

GreyJay and Suncup stood there looking at Three-Fingered Jack as their friends stepped one by one from the spur to make their way down the switchbacks.

“Well,” said Suncup, “it's beautiful, regardless of how it happened.”

GreyJay nodded. “It sure is. Not as beautiful as you, of course.”

She tittered. “You say the sweetest things.”

He kissed her.

“And you'd better shave next time you have the chance,” she added.

“Yes, dear.”

* * *

GreyJay and Suncup shared a rock near the junction with the trail diving down toward Hunts Lake and thence to Pamelia Lake. The PCT passed between small mountain hemlocks before traversing for two miles along the upper wall of the valley.

The great cone of Mt. Jefferson dominated the skyline. Over that hung a grey, angry sky. An occasional rumble rolled through it, echoing off the rocks. Occasional flashes split the sky. Now and then, one of those lanced the valley wall right about where GreyJay judged the trail to be. The smell of ozone hung in the air.

He could see most of the rest of Outlaw's and Firewalker's group hanging back just beyond the smaller hemlocks just before the trail entered a stand of larger trees. He supposed Outlaw and Firewalker themselves were much further down the trail, probably where the lightning had been striking for the last half hour.

He cringed as another strike touched down. He grunted and blinked.

“Well, stop staring at it,” said Suncup.

“Can't help it.”

“Bull. You'll fry your retinas. And no, don't expect Sophie to fix it for you.” Then she sighed. “Sorry. I don't mean to be a b...witch. Must be the pregnancy hormones.”

GreyJay looked at his wife, then chewed while thinking about what to say next. At length, he replied, “You're right. I'm sorry. I should take better care of my carcass, huh?”

She nodded.

He decided not to respond to her comment about the hormones. It was true, of course, but he at least liked to think he'd been paying attention to certain areas of diplomacy when it came to that aspect of imminent parenthood. Besides, sometimes he was screwed no matter what he said. Open mouth, insert foot, and all that.

Instead, he gave her a one-armed hug around the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you,” he said.

She smiled. “I love you, too.” She looked skyward, then quickly back down. “That storm will clear eventually, right?”

“Yeah.” He glanced up the trail, then back toward the ground. “It's a good thing the two of them don't mind being struck by lightning.”

Suncup giggled ruefully. “How in the world do they stand that?”

GreyJay shrugged. “No idea. In fact, the way Firewalker talks about it, she sounds like she actually likes it. She's a very strange woman. More likable than most I've met, but still strange. And I've met some pretty strange people.”

“Tell me about it. Some of them are ones I've met, too.”

_FLASH-CRACK!_

GreyJay jumped. At that moment, the clouds opened up, pelting everything with hail. He and Suncup quickly gathered up their gear and ducked beneath the nearby clump of hemlocks. They looked at each other.

“For better or worse, huh?” she said.

“Yup.” They both started laughing.

A couple of hours later, GreyJay turned his back on Shale Lake, flopped into his tent next to his wife, and groaned. He hated being wet. “At least it's not cold today,” he said.

“For these small things we're grateful,” said Suncup. “Now, get out of those wet things.”

GreyJay smiled, then stripped off his clothes and scooted under their quilt, sidling up next to his wife.

“Oh, geez!” she said. “Your skin's cold!”

“Better or worse,” he said.

She slugged him playfully in the arm.

“You know,” he said, “now that we're out of our clothes...”

“You man,” she teased.

* * *

The next morning, GreyJay gazed across nearby Coyote Lake at the charred remains of the small stand of conifers beyond its eastern shore. That had been where Outlaw and Firewalker had spent what they'd reported to have been a sleepless night. GreyJay and Suncup hadn't slept much, but only part of that had been because of the lightning and thunder that had lasted well into the wee hours.

“Man,” said GreyJay to the other newlyweds as they marched up to the PCT, “Thor certainly was in his element last night wasn't he?”

The pair groaned and GreyJay chuckled. “You two really are hilarious.”

“Perhaps that's what you call it,” said Liesel.

GreyJay glanced into the woman's face. Neither she nor her husband seemed to be making an effort to hide their agitation over their daughter and son-in-law being repeatedly struck by lightning. He couldn't blame them, no matter how you sliced it.

Fortunately, the sky had cleared nicely, the morning sun resting just above Sugar Pine Ridge to the east.

“We really should get going,” said Neil, “if we want to make it over Park Ridge before Thor decides to have another go at his anvil.”

“Besides,” said Suncup, “I need to warm up.”

There were murmurs of assent. Everyone had reluctantly squeezed themselves back into their wet clothing less than an hour before and while GreyJay couldn't speak for the others, he wanted to get moving if for no other reason than to warm his core.

They made their way around the small lake and over its outflow stream before the trail veered sharply to the left and began a four-and-a-half-mile, sixteen-hundred-foot descent. A few wide spots here and there let the group settle out by walking speed. GreyJay and Suncup pelted down the trail, balancing long, loping strides and taking advantage of the even grade and unobstructed tread. Soon, the trail curved northward and remained that way except for a few long switchbacks through viewless conifer forest.

After about an hour, they flew past the junction with the Frog Lake Trail, and paused on a small bench crowded with vine maple and overlooking the small trough through which flowed Milk Creek. It was a great spot for a break.

They'd been sitting there for maybe ten minutes before the first of the others arrived.

“Try the water,” said Suncup, “it's delicious!”

“Don't mind if I do,” said Firewalker. She shrugged out of her pack, then shoved her face into the milky, silt-laden stream.

GreyJay smiled. He didn't know why, but that particular habit continued to amuse him. From the look on Outlaw's face, the feeling was one shared and probably by most members of the group. One by one, the others appeared up above among the maples. It was getting a bit crowded.

“You know,” he said, “we could arrange to be done and give the rest of you a turn. We'll meet up at, say, Russel Creek?”

He and Suncup swallowed the rest of their snack, then drank deeply of the creek's glacial milk before heading into the climb before them.

* * *

GreyJay leaned against a tree, looking at where Russel Creek should have been.

“I thought,” said Harold, “this was supposed to be a...how'd you put it, Neil...twitchy stream crossing. A raging torrent likened unto those of the High Sierra.”

“It is...or was,” said Neil.

“We're complaining about this why?” said GreyJay.

He gestured at the broad snow bridge filling the trough ahead of them. The trail disappeared beneath the hard-crusted snow, reappearing on the far side some forty-odd yards away. From the look of it, some of that was leftover from the previous season's snow that hadn't melted and God knew twenty-eleven had not only been a high snow year, but not a particularly warm summer so far.

Most snow bridges made him nervous. You never could tell how thick one was and so you consequently never knew when one was going to collapse, dumping you into whatever lay below. But judging by the extent of the snowpack and what he remembered from the last time he'd been along this section of trail, he wasn't particularly concerned.

“Can't be that bad,” he said, pointing at a clear set of hoofprints. “Someone brought a horse across this.”

He took the lead, stepping across it, the surface layer of ice crunching lightly beneath his feet. He could hear the low rumble of the water churning along its course below. The others followed, keeping several paces between the person in front. In many ways, it was like crossing a frozen pond. Spreading out the weight was simply the safest way to do it.

But the bridge held without incident. Some forms of excitement were just better left unexperienced.

A couple of hours later, they cleared a rise and began to wind across Jefferson Park. Few of the basin's larger lakes were visible, but the trail passed small pool after small pool where water had collected in myriads of little hollows.

GreyJay didn't bother to avoid the puddles of standing water on the trail. That was one of the things one learned pretty quickly on any backpacking trip longer than a weekend. Wet feet were often inevitable and the extra effort required trying to keep them dry was not usually worth the trouble. That was why he routinely hung wet socks on the outside of his pack. Sooner or later they'd dry out, just in time to change out of the sodden ones on his feet. In the meantime, he took advantage of wool's curious ability to stay warm even when wet.

Following the tread across half-submerged landscape was at least as troublesome as following the route across snowpack. He decided to more or less strike out across the basin in the general direction of Russel Lake at the northwest end and then find the trail climbing up from there.

So they sloshed through ankle-deep water, packed volcanic ash providing firm footing. All around, hummocks of pink-flowered Phyllodoce empetriformis and white-belled huckleberry clung to little rock islands that barely rose above the flooded basin. Aster, pink paintbrush, shooting-star, and elephant-heads, and purple penstemon clustered on shallow humps. Above it all towered the massive cone of Mt. Jefferson to the east, its distinctive double peak dark against snow-clad flanks.

They stopped for a late lunch on the shore of Russel Lake near its outflow. The others chitchatted, something that tended to die down during actual hiking. Despite the long hours together on the trail, it was remarkable how difficult it was to hold a conversation while on the move and most of it tended to be limited to navigation, breaks, water, and so forth.

With storm clouds again gathering, Outlaw and Firewalker held back while everyone else began their thousand-foot assault of Park Ridge. The going was slow at first, the tread loose with rock and flooded with runoff.

GreyJay was again glad he'd long ago switched to trail sandals. Part shoe and part sandal, they had the sturdiness and stability of a shoe, yet the breathability and drainage of a sandal. He wasn't sure he'd have been keen about wearing them in the sticker-infested parts of the trail in SoCal or along the Hat Creek Rim. But in Oregon, they worked quite well, especially since his feet were going to be almost perpetually wet for much of the rest of the hike anyway.

The first rumbles of thunder pealed across the sky as GreyJay and Suncup strode past the wooden sign marking the boundary of the Mt. Hood National Forest and identifying Park Ridge's seven thousand and ten foot elevation. To the north, the clouds broke just over the bumpy cone of Ollallie Butte six miles to the north. Beyond that, a blue sky stretched out, with Mt. Hood beckoning them northward.

GreyJay was only too glad to comply. Thunderheads still made him nervous and for very good reason. After taking a couple of photos and zipping the legs onto their convertible shorts, he and his wife trundled alone the ridge toward a rocky cairn. Below them, Neil and the others picked their way across an icy slope, its surface wind-blown into a washboard pattern of ridges that provided blessed traction.

Fortunately, even if he were to take a spill, the gradient wasn't steep and he wouldn't slide far. Being a veteran of the High Sierra made the descent from Park Ridge mere child's play. Before long, they'd negotiated the steeper part of their fifteen-hundred-foot descent toward Breitenbush Lake, the ice clearing out and the trail grade easing.

Below and to the west stretched acres of familiar burned-out forest. Their route skirted it. GreyJay looked back toward the ridge just before the trail bumped over a saddle. Lightning lashed at the rocky spine. He knew lightning struck that point on a semi-regular basis anyway. Yet he also knew Outlaw and Firewalker were up there.

Maybe he'd have some time next summer for a day hike or two, just to see what sort of fire damage might have been done to the wind-stunted hemlocks and firs that clung to the thin, ashy soil atop Park Ridge. God knew the baby wouldn't give him much time for more than that. But at least he'd have had his big hikes out of his system by then. God willing, he could take his child with him in a decade or so along the Trans-Oregon Trail, or the Blue Mountains loop. After all, wasn't that sort of thing part of the job description of “Dad?”

After a brief, tottery passage along a fell-field, the pair again flew down the trail, bottoming out and then emerging at the Breitenbush Lake parking area. Its expansive loop was built-up with crushed red scoria. He counted three vehicles, typical of mid-week. The place would have been packed on a weekend, Jefferson Park and the lakes to the north all being popular day and weekend hiking destinations.

His friends had gathered around the standard Forest Service outhouse building across the gravel from the trail. He waved to his friends before half-trotting over.

As GreyJay had suspected, Howl had once again used magic to convert a random door into another of his portals to his sister's house in Wales. Was he ever going to get used to that? His own resupply, and his wife's, was waiting for him at Ollalie Lake resort another half dozen trail miles to the north.

“Should we wait up for Outlaw and Firewalker?” Neil asked.

“Uh...can't they find us?” GreyJay replied.

“Of course they can,” said Howl.

“There's a good shelter over at the campground. Might be a bit chummy, but we can at least eat dinner out of the wind and rain.”

“How far is that?” asked Liesel.

“Fifty meters or so.”

“Good,” said Harold, “because some of us aren't as young as we once were.”

“You're doing right well for an old guy,” said Howl. Sophie elbowed him in the ribs, then winked at him. GreyJay still marveled at how the two of them could have so much friction between them, yet still manage to be such an adorable couple. Still, he suspected they might some day kill each other, especially given their considerable magical ability.

A short spur trail led off the opposite side of the parking area, along a nearly-stagnant marshy area, then across the footbridge spanning the outflow of the lake as it fed the North Fork of the Breitenbush River, then brought them to the edge of the Breitenbush Lake campground amid tall mountain hemlocks and subalpine firs.

The shelter stood closer to the southern end of the campground. A semi-circular fire pit built of mortared angular andesite rocks stood almost waist-high. Opposite that stood the shelter proper. Easily ten by twenty feet, its base was also formed of a wall of mortared andesite blocks on which sat wooden walls head-high and topped with an A-frame roof constructed with arm-thick logs, sided and roofed with thin-split wooden planks. A sturdy wooden picnic table sat inside.

Everyone piled inside, shrugged off their packs, and placed them against the rear wall before sitting down on one of the table's benches. Groans of relief rose from every throat. It had barely been an eighteen-mile day, but the climb up Park Ridge had been particularly strenuous on everyone and the knee-jarring drop down the north side, let alone the one from Coyote Lake first thing that morning, hadn't done anyone's quads any favors. Nor had two nearly-sleepless nights in a row.

Five minutes later, Howl walked up. “Special delivery!” he said as he set a shallow cardboard box filled with various sweet and savory pastries on the table.

“You really go out of your way,” said Liesel, as she delicately picked up a custard-filled croissant.

“We should eat while we can,” said Howl, “before Firewalker arrives.”

Chuckles escaped around mouths full of food. Everyone knew what that meant.

“Oh,” said Neil, “when we resupply at Ollalie tomorrow, Mum says we can have showers at her place if we want. That is, if my uncle doesn't hog all the hot water.”

“I resent that,” said Howl, his indignation sounding more than a bit feigned.

The mage's remark drew only giggles and chuckles from his friends and family.

Ten minutes later, Outlaw and Firewalker arrived. GreyJay could hear the rapid thumps of Outlaw's shoes and the tapping of their trekking poles. Firewalker's bare feet made almost no sound on the forest duff. The pair wasted no time devouring the several remaining pastries.

“How do you two manage that anyway?” Suncup asked. “Being struck by lightning, I mean. It sounds...highly unpleasant.”

Outlaw and Firewalker laughed, then shrugged out of their own packs and squeezed onto spare bits of picnic bench. “You know,” said Outlaw, “I almost don't notice it. It's...a little like the way your arm tingles if you've been sleeping on it.”

“I think it feels wonderful!” Firewalker gushed. “That much raw energy delivered all at once!” she squealed.

Outlaw chuckled, then kissed his wife on the cheek. “Rapunzel,” he said, “you're a treasure. I love you.”

“Aw,” said Firewalker, “I love you more, Eugene.”

“I love you most.” They kissed...then kissed some more.

“Uh, guys?” said Neil. “You're starting to glow, you know.”

“Oh, right,” said Firewalker. “Sorry.”

“Why? It's kind of cute, actually.”

Harold and Liesel looked at each other, then smiled. “You know,” said Harold, “I think I'm actually growing accustomed to that. It was a little alarming at first. But I suppose I should have expected something like that. After all, she was born with the magic of the golden flower within her. So why not?”

Firewalker smiled, then stood up, walked around the table and gave her parents big hugs, glowing a little as she did.

“Well, I don't know about any of you,” said Howl, “but I'm exhausted.”

One by one, everyone stood up, lugged their packs outside, and began to pitch their tents. Firewalker incinerated the cardboard in the firepit before helping her husband with their tent.

GreyJay gazed eastward. Beyond his friends' tents lay the road, then a strip of shallow water grasses, some of which would surely be scorched in the morning following Firewalker's usual discharge. Across the lake, Campbell Butte caught the last of the sun's ruddy rays. He sighed, then ducked inside to join his wife for a nice snug night.


	20. Hood

Rapunzel stepped off the gravel shoulder of Hwy. 35, a mid-afternoon snack sitting pleasantly in her belly and fueling a spring in her step. The weather had been warm and clear that morning, views of Mt. Hood beckoning to her as she'd hiked along the ridge between Frog Lake and Barlow Pass.

Over the last hour, however, clouds had drifted in from the west. The air temperature's rapid drop had motivated the group to hurry their meal. Rapunzel, of course, hadn't minded the chill. There had been many days during her childhood when she'd sustained frostbite from the bitter cold within her tower. If it hadn't been for her erstwhile magic hair, she'd be missing more than half of her fingers and toes. Since acquiring the Sun-blood, her perception of cold had changed dramatically.

A momentary break in the trees a half-mile from the road gave her a brief glance southward. She loved looking back and seeing where she'd been. Other such views had been far more dramatic, of course. There being not much to see other than trees and a couple of bumps, this one was worthy only of a minor pause.

Then she dove back into forest cover, leaning into the four-and-a-half-mile climb up the southern flank of Mt. Hood. Shelf fungi hung from tree snags and fallen logs. At the edges of a few small clearings, the pendulous green flower clusters of Veratrum viride drooped from their fuzzy, corn-like stalks nearly as tall as her head. Huckleberries continued to carpet the forest floor, the rough bark of fallen trees just clearing the foliage.

Still, the storm continued to build. It wasn't a thunderstorm. That much she knew. She could feel it, the difference in the energy. She could even feel it when it started to rain, before the drops had reached the ground. What was her range? A mile? Twenty miles? More? The thing was, that range had been steadily increasing over the last several months. She could touch the glaciers high on Mt. Hood, feel the asphalt ribbons of Hwy. 35, US-26, and the nearby Timberline Road just across the Salmon River drainage just out of sight to her left. Would she eventually be able to feel the moon, or touch the sun? She had no idea, and the thought both excited and terrified her in ways she was at a loss to describe or explain.

At last, they arrived at a small stream, its waters babbling beside hundreds of arnicas and senecios, their yellow composite flowers shining in the early evening's cloudy gloom. Two small flat spots nestled among the trees might have made good for a good campsite for a much smaller group. Neil said as much. Fortunately, it was a perfect spot for a rest and a drink. Rapunzel wasted no time shrugging off her pack and shoving her face into the cool water.

The rain that had begun to fall an hour before dripped randomly off the hemlocks and firs above them. Swaying trees creaked and groaned. The intermittent hooting of an owl floated on the breeze.

The trail swung toward the edge of a valley. The wide green ribbon of vine maple, mountain ash, alder, and mountain spirea marked the course of Salmon River, merely a creek so close to its source. A steep slope of loose volcanic ash rose a hundred feet to a capping of conifers and small shrubs. Above the upper rim of the little valley, several of the ski lift towers of Timberline Ski Area pointed skyward in their march toward the Palmer Glacier.

Nearly a mile later, the trail crossed timberline, the tread softening, Rapunzel's toes digging into loose volcanic ash. Mountain goldenrod stood like glowing candles above smaller purple asters, lupine, and white Mariposa tulips, all glistening with drizzle.

She reveled in the subtle grittiness offsetting the occasional backward slippage that randomly stalled her rhythm. The wind rose, and the sky unleashed stronger rains that cut through her clothing. Her friends grunted behind her, a few of them letting loose with loud whoops. Rapunzel grinned.

Before long, the PCT met the Timberline trail and kept climbing along the top of a spur ridge, the Salmon River to the left, and the deeper drainage of the White River to the right. Steam rose from Rapunzel's skin to join the mist and rain that obscured Mt. Hood.

Gusts blew rainwater off stunted subalpine firs in blattering sprays. Rapunzel squealed in joy. Eugene chuckled at her. Rapunzel pirouetted a few times, nearly bumping into a south-bound hiker clad in a dark green rain poncho.

The trail swung around a flat peppered with wild buckwheat, Brewer's lupine, partridgefoot, and polygonum, bumping over a trickle, then cresting a final rise upslope of Timberline Lodge, the building glowing slightly in the onset of evening. An asphalt path leading down toward the building still contrasted nicely with the ashy soil, even in the low light.

“Well,” said Howl, “what do you all think? Back door, or front?”

“All this time on the level,” said Eugene, “and my first impulse is still the back.”

Harold chuckled. “I've only ever used the front, myself.”

“Fortunately,” said Grey-Jay, “they pretty much made the decision for us. Registration desk and all. Besides, the front entry is more impressive than the back. Follow me.”

Grey-Jay led everyone down the path and around to the left. An expansive concrete staircase led up toward a dressed stone archway built out of Mt. Hood itself. The stone dripped from the rain pelting against it. Neil opened one of the doors recessed several paces within the archway and held it for everyone else.

The wind abruptly died as Rapunzel passed through the archway and into the main headhouse. The space was cavernous. A monolithic mortared stone fireplace stood in the center of the room, its width tapering gradually to the ceiling soaring several stories above her head. Bare timbers and planks formed the structural elements. Cushioned sofas and hexagonal wooden tables sat on a sunken floor about the fireplace.

“Wow,” she said. “It's homey!”

“Doesn't it...?” said Eugene.

“Remind me of my tower?” Rapunzel finished. “A little. And no, that doesn't bother me.”

“You're amazing.”

Rapunzel giggled. “So are you.” She pulled him down for a kiss.

“Right,” said Howl. “I'll be right back.” He strode across the space and around a corner.

“Where's he...?” Liesel began.

“Registration,” Grey-Jay said. “Don't worry, you'll like it.”

“I already like it,” said Rapunzel. “Do we get to take a nero here?”

Grey-Jay shrugged. “I don't see why not. Check-out's at eleven. Depends on what everyone else thinks. It's only nine and a half miles to Ramona Falls anyway.”

Rapunzel returned her attention to the rafters and beams hanging far above her head.

“Rapunzel,” said Eugene, “are you thinking what I think you're thinking?”

“Oh, you mean that it would be fun to perform some...what was the expression...aerobatic insanity in here? No, not at all.” She winked at him.

“You miss the long hair, don't you?”

Rapunzel sighed. “Sometimes. And, ja, this is one of those times.”

Eugene nodded, then put an arm around her. “You know I love you no matter how long your hair is.”

Rapunzel giggled, then sighed. “I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“We love you most-est,” said her parents together.

Rapunzel felt a tear come to her eye. It was turning out to be a very good life. Strange, but good.

* * *

Rapunzel followed Eugene into their room. She looked around, taking it all in as she always did. Like much of the rest of the building, the walls and doors were stained fir and hemlock timbers and planks. Wooden furnishings—dresser, night-stand, a couple of other tables and the cushioned seating near the windows—matched the walls.

Several paintings of Cascade Mountain wildflowers hung tastefully on the walls. A simple bathroom was tiled in off-white. The ceiling, painted off-white, sloped to follow the roof contour opposite the door. A reading nook jutted out from the rest of the room. The Queen-sized bed looked comfortable, and Rapunzel knew just what she and her husband could do with that.

Sure, it wasn't nearly as spacious as her suite back home, but it was still just a bit larger than her tower. Then again, that wasn't terribly difficult. Most places she'd been were larger than her tower. But first things first.

Rapunzel followed Eugene across the room and plopped her pack onto the floor beneath a window, then gazed up into his eyes and smiled.

She let him pull her tunic off while she undid his shorts and peeled off his shirt. She grinned, then spun around him, taking a few steps backward toward the bathroom. Eugene cocked his head.

“Shower,” said Rapunzel.

Eugene grinned.

Rapunzel rolled her eyes. “Men,” she said. Then she bumped her eyebrows. “But if you insist...” She whirled around and bounced toward the shower.

* * *

Rapunzel was happy to be on firmer trail once more. It was still the same volcanic ash and still the same joint PCT/TT, though it felt firmer. Neil said that section of tread was far more heavily trammeled than the looser footing of the day before. The occasional remains of hikers' campfires testified to that.

The wind and rain had let up slightly. Instead of the driving curtain of water that had splashed against her room's window prior to her mad exodus just after first light, only a light mist drifted across the slopes. A shroud of cloud and more mist still obscured Mt. Hood, the grey underbelly so low, Rapunzel thought she could have reached up and touched it.

A mile of undulation later, the trail crested the rim of Zigzag Canyon, its water a silver ribbon across bare volcanic debris more than a hundred feet below.

A raven cawed from atop a nearby fir, its voice low and gravelly. The bird twitched, then toppled from its perch, landing in the duff not far from Rapunzel's feet. She picked it up by its feet, letting it swing back and forth as she hiked.

The trail dropped at an angle through more conifers, the broad, ribbed leaves of twisted-stalk drooping from the steep slope to the left. A few switchbacks later, the trail broke out of the foliage at Zigzag Creek. Purple nothochelone hung from the slope, red paintbrush, yellow monkey-flower and pink shooting-star peeking out from the edge of blue elderberry. Some fifty paces upstream, the white foam of a waterfall spilled over a rocky ledge twenty feet high, hitting another rock before plunging to its new bed out of sight beyond the alders.

The group paused for a brief snack and water break. Rapunzel burned the feathers off the bird, then proceeded to tear meat from its body, the crisp skin crackling. She shared the liver, kidneys, spleen, heart, and gizzard with Nalaya, Lettie, and Sophie. When she was done, she incinerated the remains, scattering the ashes in the creek.

Rapunzel bounced from rock to rock through the lightly churning creek water, and then up the steep slope beyond. A right turn at a trail fork passed a swath of false lily-of-the-valley in a steep climb through more conifers.

The trail swung around the reddening berries of mountain ash on its ascent toward Paradise Park, an alternate route to the equestrian path below. Rapunzel grabbed a fist full of the fruits and jammed them into her mouth. After a few chews, she spewed them back out.

“Ugh!” she spluttered. “Grey-Jay! You said these were edible!”

“They _are_ edible!” Grey-Jay protested.

“They're disgusting!”

“Says the woman who eats raw animals.”

Rapunzel's eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” said Grey-Jay. Rapunzel wasn't sure he sounded sincere, but she let it go. “They're probably not ripe yet anyway. Still, just because a plant is edible, that doesn't always mean it's particularly palatable. I tried a few along the Tanner Creek Trail a couple of autumns ago and...well, I didn't like them, either. Still, if it's between that and starvation, a person can and will put up with a lot.”

The group moved on. Blue berries of queen's cup peeked out from under the occasional grove of conifers. In broad, sloping meadows, the developing fuzzy heads of mountain pasqueflower and furry white cats-ear twinkled with minute water droplets alongside expansive meadowy slopes disappearing into the clouds. In some places, the mist drifted over rocks and through the branches of trees.

The remains of Paradise Park Shelter, little more than a partial waist-high stone rectangle beneath a few conifers, could easily have been missed. The trail bounced across the clear, babbling waters of Lost Creek. Pink paintbrush, blue-purple lupine, white valerian, straw willow, and pink phyllodoce shone in the grey light. Rapunzel wasted no time shoving her face in the cooling water.

A mile later, the trail burst out onto the southern rim of the Sandy River canyon. Its water, fed by the Sandy Glacier obscured by persistent clouds, cascaded down one waterfall after another a thousand bare, rocky feet below. One wrong step could easily send a hiker tumbling down loose ash and cinders to finally fall over an unseen cliff.

The trail veered away to follow a dozen switchbacks. Soon it plunged into fir and hemlock forests, the floor littered with the blow-downs from the previous storm season. Rapunzel lengthened her stride, flying down toward the river valley, her breath, footsteps, and those of her companions behind her the only sound.

Three and a half miles later, Rapunzel burst out of the trees and onto the Sandy River's flood-plain, scoured flat and strewn with boulders put there by repeated glacial outburst floods over the centuries. Together, they picked their way across the rubble, always watching for stacked rocks marking the trail. At length, they came to a place where three pine saplings, ragged bark still clinging haphazardly to their trunks, had been lashed together in three places and tossed across the churning, turbid Sandy River.

“So that's what that sign meant,” said Eugene.

“Ai,” said Neil.

He'd made a point of reading aloud, both in English and Ingarian, a sign near the Timberline Lodge that had told of a young woman who'd drowned crossing the Sandy River not too long before. The sign also talked about safe river-crossing techniques. To a veteran of the High Sierra, however, it had all been old news, as the saying went.

“That doesn't look too bad,” said Rapunzel.

“True,” said Grey-Jay, “but we should take it one person at a time. That water's still a bit too turbid for my taste.”

“Didn't you say it's glacier water?” said Eugene.

“Yup.”

“So...isn't it always turbid?”

Grey-Jay sighed. “Turgid, then. The point is, anyone falls in...yeah. Let's not go there, okay?”

Rapunzel stepped onto the first log. After a few steps away from their rocky anchor point, they began to flex under her weight. Each log flexed differently, one foot on one, and the other foot on another. It bounced slowly and subtly in what felt like slow motion. At last, she stepped off the other end and back onto rock and gravel.

“Whew!” she squealed.

She watched as one after another, her friends and family tottered their way across. Some went quickly and surely, others much more tentatively.

“Right,” said Neil, “let's go.”

A stack of rocks on the northern side of the riverbed marked the trail. A short climb up to a bench gave a view up the canyon. The setting sun pierced breaking clouds, the snow and glaciers of Mt. Hood glowing pink through the gaps of cloud.

Rapunzel looked back across to the conifer-covered slopes, all the various shades of green merging together, and complimenting one another. Spontaneous macro-evolution, my foot, she thought.

* * *

Rapunzel turned a corner in the trail, a conjunction of topography, geology, and botany. The view abruptly opened out and she gasped.

In the midday light, an azure sky hung above an expansive alpine fell-field of andesite slabs. Clumps of intense blue gentians bordered the tread and mats of common juniper spread out like blue-green blankets. A few cairns of rocks stood beside the trail like small monuments. Beyond it all, the still-snowy bulk of Mt. Adams loomed in the near distance, the flattened hulk of Mt. St. Helens further to its northwest, both almost close enough to touch in the rain-cleansed air.

The Ingarians plucked blue berries from the low junipers, munching contentedly on them.

“I don't think you'd like them,” said Neil.

“They're supposed to be edible, I think,” said Grey-Jay.

“My sources are mixed on that. Most of what I've read suggests topical use for humans, as an anti-inflammatory among other things. I've tried it for that and it works pretty well. I found a couple of references to internal use, but we humans would probably find them kind of pitchy-tasting. Best to pass them up, especially for those of you growing babies.”

Two and a half miles later, Rapunzel made a hard left through foliage that nearly obscured the Eagle Creek Trail at Wahtum Lake, its blue-green waters partly screened by hemlock trunks. For a half-mile, the tread was covered in river rocks and several of her friends wondered how they were going to make good enough time to reach Seven-and-a-Half-Mile Camp before dusk. Grey-Jay assured them that the tread would clear. It mercifully did.

Rapunzel flew down the trail, more needle duff crunching lightly under her bare feet, narrowly missing treading on a banana slug. She scooped it up, and shoved it into her mouth.

“Elsa!” Liesel scolded. “At least cook it first!”

“I _am_ cooking it,” said Rapunzel between chews.

“That's disgusting,” said Suncup.

“It's just like escargot,” Rapunzel protested, “only bigger.”

Grey-Jay sighed. “Firewalker,” he said, “please leave our banana slugs alone. They're valuable decomposers. Besides, some of the wildlife eat them.”

“And I eat the wildlife. Isn't that how it works?”

“More or less. But these guys wind up being casualties of hiker feet.”

Rapunzel peered at Grey-Jay while she chewed. “I suppose,” she said at length.

After a short while, the waters of a small stream flowed across the trail. Thorny canes of devil's club shoved through the ferns, their reddening berries conspicuous among the greenery. Rapunzel paused to plunge her head into a cascading creek, the water washing around her feet. It felt _so_ good!

They flew down the trail, crossing another set of gushing creeks, then a couple of fell-fields, the rocks large so far down the upper slopes that had spilled them. Still they went down, down, down. Just when it seemed that the down would never end, they came to a screeching halt where a sign nailed to a tree identified “7 ½ Mile Camp.”

“Whew!” said Rapunzel. She half-slid down the short spur trail a couple dozen steps to an expansive clearing beneath firs and cedars. Sword ferns littered the forest floor.

A large ring of rocks marked a fire pit and several large logs lay on the ground beside it. Plenty of flat spaces for tents were visible all over. One by one, the party dropped packs and pitched tents. Rapunzel started a fire with wet wood, a round of song and merriment lasting until well after the last of the day's light had failed.

* * *

Rapunzel looked over her shoulder toward camp. She cringed at the large patch of scorched earth and charred vegetation surrounding the site of her morning's discharge, then sighed. The dampness from the previous day's early rain had been a blessing. It was even more of a blessing that she had the ability to suck the heat out of whatever fires she'd started over the last few weeks.

Eugene placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She smiled.

The trail was initially choked with greenery. Vine maples dominated the understory, sword, lady, and bracken ferns and vancouveria slapping at her shins. Everyone snacked on western red-cedar leaves hanging down within reach.  
Before long, the trail opened out again, stands of alder bordering the trail on the left, the still-dark waters of Eagle Creek ghosting by. Ahead, the creak vanished over a precipice.

The trail cut into a cliff wall, following a seven-foot-high cleft blasted out of the rock. Mosses, licorice ferns, sedums, and penstemons clung to the rock and the occasional drop of water dripped from it. To the right was a wall of rock and to the left, nothing but thin air and a long drop.

Suddenly, the trail rounded a bend and Rapunzel gasped again. She shoved her way forward to allow the others to pile up behind her, keeping her gaze divided between staying on the narrow ledge of trail and the impressive waterfall ahead. It fell in a single, wide ribbon from where the creek draining Wahtum Lake dove over the cliff and its plunge pool some three hundred feet below it.

What most caught Rapunzel's attention was the one thing Neil had been teasing over and over. The waterfall was called Tunnel Falls because the trail had been painstakingly cut through the rock behind the fall, leaving a couple of feet of rock between the trail's tunnel and the waterfall.

As Rapunzel drew closer, she could see how the water didn't simply fall through thin air, as much as it flowed, skipped, and glanced off a not-quite-vertical basalt wall. Wind generated by the fall lofted a fine mist into the air. Maidenhair ferns joined the others plastered to the cliff above the trail.

A score of paces from the tunnel's mouth, the noise was deafening. Water slid and sheeted across the rock, the vibrations palpable. The fall viewed from the side beside the tunnel was something else, too, a pulsing blur of white. Inside, Rapunzel felt the rumble and grind through her feet. Through her other sense, she perceived the heat of the thing, water sliding against water and rock, rock vibrating against other rock, the whole thing lighting up in an undulating shimmer she wished she could share with another.

She stood there, water dripping onto her from the ceiling, reveling in the whole thing. At last she stepped out of the tunnel and back into the light, the trail taking her slowly around the wall and back toward Eagle Creek.

Around a corner, the wall opened out into a broad, open slope covered with grasses, Oregon sunshine, and biscuitroot reaching upward to the right and another precipitous drop to the left. The trail gradually descended toward the creek, then followed it a little above high-water level before another waterfall dropped into yet another chasm. In places, water dripped and trickled from rocks above and onto the trail and hikers. The pattern repeated itself several times over the next few miles as the trail and the creek continued their inexorable descent toward the Columbia River.

Eventually, the trail crossed a metal-framed, wood-planked bridge spanning the creek above a tranquil pool. A mile more, another bridge crossed the creek where it flowed through a deep, narrow gorge, the water black in deep shade.

Every once in a while, the trail passed a campsite carved out in some hollow or other between the trail and the stream. Twice, another trail struck straight up toward the ridge above to join the PCT atop the Benson Plateau nearly four thousand feet above.

The air gradually warmed as the trail dropped and the sun rose. Shortly after noon, the group hit a short length of asphalt that ended at the Eagle Creek trailhead parking lot. It was full to overflowing, cars parked along the road for a quarter mile.

After a few minutes, a wooden suspension bridge spanning Eagle Creek rose out of the greenery. A large sign said, “GORGE TRAIL...WAUNA VIEWPOINT TRAIL 0.9 Mi...TANNER CREEK ROAD 1.3 Mi...TANNER CREEK 3Mi.” Grey-Jay helpfully supplied a running commentary about where that trail led, adding a humorous anecdote about a sign up there next to another side trail that read something like, “Trail of doom!”

Across the access road from the bridge, the yellow-sided building of the fish hatchery stood to the north of the Columbia Gorge Trail. Rapunzel resisted the urge to go look, lest she be too tempted to steal a fish or three.

Their route took them above the babbling fish ponds, Rapunzel drooling over them the whole time. They soon passed out of earshot and onto the old Columbia Gorge Highway, long closed to motor vehicles following the construction of Interstate-84.

Before long, the trail veered off the road, paralleling the Interstate, sometimes in sight of it, sometimes not, but always within ear-shot of the steady roar of traffic. Rapunzel didn't remember the other major freeways—I-10 at Tehachapi Pass, I-80 at Donner Pass, and I-5 at Castella and Siskiyou Summit--being so loud. Perhaps it was a function of the steep southern wall of the Gorge rising up to their right beyond all the trees.

The CGT climbed up onto a bench peppered with biscuitroot, shooting-star, fritillary, and grasses before dropping again. A short time later, the trail emerged at a small town street. Grey-Jay led them under the freeway and toward the river a couple of blocks to a place called Charburger.

The restaurant offered what Rapunzel had come to know as the usual burger fare. She still marveled at the idea of placing meat and sliced vegetables between two pieces of bread. The term sandwich was attributed to the fourth Earl of Sandwich in the eighteenth century, according to Suncup, though the concept was apparently far older than that. Still, neither Rapunzel, nor her parents, nor Eugene could recall having encountered it, and that was saying something. The closest thing to it was the Greek pita that her mother had seen during a voyage to that country some years before.

As was the case at Crater Lake and Timberline, there was much deliberation between Howl, Neil, their wives, and in-laws concerning just what was edible for Ingarians and what wasn't. They finally settled on the All-You-Can-Eat salad bar for starters. Rapunzel wasn't disappointed to see the interesting assortment of salad-related food piled onto her friends' plates. Most everyone went back for seconds while waiting for their main dishes to be cooked and served.

As before, the Perry contingent carved up the contents of their plates and passed various items back and forth. Rapunzel ordered as much protein and fat as she could, including extra chicken strips and as many fried potatoes as she could convince the wait staff to bring her. As usual, it was a concerted effort for her to remember to thoroughly chew.

When they'd finished, Howl pressed an obliging door into service. Eugene packed their resupply while Rapunzel exchanged another farewell with her parents.

She reached up and wiped a tear from her father's face. “Papa, don't cry.”

He smiled wordlessly at her.

“It's only three weeks.”

“We'll miss you,” said her mother.

“And you didn't miss me before?”

“It was only a couple of days our time, remember?”

“Uh...isn't Howl sending you home ahead of us?”

“Well...yes, he is. But then there's the detail of our babies.”

Rapunzel tittered. “Ah, ja, well...there is that. But why do they have to be born at the same time?”

Her mother sighed. “Elsa, we've been over this. It has to look like you and your husband were chaste on your wedding day.”

“But we _were_ chaste on our wedding day! We...” She exhaled heavily. “I thought we agreed that me being gone in the future was the same as me being gone on that Grand Tour thing.”

“Yes, but it isn't like you can send us letters from Milan and Versailles and Madrid, now, is it?”

“Mama, we'll be fine. And you'll be tripping over me again before you know it. Me and the little one.” She gave each of her parents a firm embrace. “The sooner we go, the sooner we return, ja?”

Her parents both nodded.

“I love you both. The last few years have been incredible, more than I could ever have imagined the day I blackmailed Eugene into taking me to see the lanterns.”

They backed into the door as Howl wiped the chalk inscriptions off its surface.

“And have some more good sex!” Rapunzel called to her parents.

The door closed on their slack-jawed faces. Rapunzel turned to Eugene. He knelt on the ground, snickering quietly, and shaking his head a little.

“Rapunzel,” he said, “you're a treasure.” He cinched down her pack before helping her into it, then shrugged into his own.

“I love you, too, dearest. Now, shall we?”

Eugene gestured toward the Bridge of the Gods, its span of steel girders rising above them. The two trudged off, pole tips clicking on the asphalt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more on Timberline Lodge, please visit http://www.timberlinelodge.com/
> 
> When I tried mountain ash berries, I thought they tasted mostly like banana peel with a hint of dandelion. While I suspect the berries I ate needed a good hard frost to stimulate the conversion of starches into sugars in the fruit, I've also read reports that while the berries are indeed edible, their palatability is questionable. It's not unusual for an edible plant to be not particularly tasty.
> 
> For more on the Charburger restaurant, please visit http://charburger84.com/


	21. Snoqualmie

Firewalker's Log  
September 19, 2011  
Delate Creek  
Miles: 20 Trip miles: 2421.4

I awake to an intermittent dripping on our tent roof. How does this differ from every morning over the last eight days? It's not steady! That means maybe we'll actually have some sun soon! I've been the Firewalker for close to three years and still I'm surprised at how profoundly I'm affected by sun deficiency. One would think all that would be so familiar to me by now.

Suncup says it might be something called Seasonal Affective Disorder. They really do have some strange terms in the twenty-first century. According to her, it has something to do with the link between sunlight hitting the retinas and dopamine, serotonin, and melatonin, and also sunlight hitting skin and generating vitamin D. I'd never have understood any of that if I hadn't come here. It's a shame we don't know about it in my time. Just the knowledge of vitamins could solve so many health problems!

I'm pretty sure Papa would laugh. I mean, about the SAD. He'd probably have a point, though. Papa's a problem-solver, that's for sure. But he also requires everyone to do their jobs, no matter what. Maybe that's one reason Corona's brewers do so well. Sigh. I do wish I could have more than a sip of that every now and then. Being the Firewalker is overall a good thing, I suppose, but it sure can be inconvenient!

No, I'm pretty sure I don't have SAD. I never was depressed living in my tower, even in the long, dark winters. Occasionally wistful about the world outside, sure, but never depressed. But now? Well, having shards of suns inside me does things to me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually turning into a sun.

What would that would be like? Would I just hang there and shine, or could I actually do things like the ancients ascribed to their various sun gods? Would that make me a sun goddess? Every time I mention such musings aloud, Grey-Jay suggests taking up writing fiction. Hmm. That's an interesting idea. I'll certainly paint some of it later, at the very least. One thing the trail has given me is inspiration for my art. And, oh, boy, is there a _lot_ of trail out here!

I rush outside and over to the spot I chose yesterday evening for my discharge. Through a lot of trial and error, I've discovered a few things about that.

First, decide ahead of time exactly where I'm going to dash as I go hurtling out of the tent each morning. It's best if I don't have to think too much about that first thing in the morning.

Second, choose a spot with a lot of open area, preferably with something that doesn't burn, such as water or rock. I still wonder what other hikers are going to say about the couple of meadows I've had to partially scorch.

Third, only torch the little stuff. That one is easier said than done. At Seven-and-a-Half-Mile Camp, the large cedars I'd partially charred are probably going to fall over this winter, but at least they'll fall toward the creek. In a few other places, all the trees were fairly large and there simply wasn't any small stuff.

I suppose the most important thing is to not hurt anyone. The second most important thing is to not set the forest on fire. That's not hard when everything is soggy. Grey-Jay assures us the hike is only going to grow soggier. Just as long as there are a few sun-breaks every couple of days, I can handle that.

I splash into my chosen spot at the edge of Beaver Lake and, WHUMPH! So much for that stand of vine maple, mountain-ash, alder, and huckleberry. Good thing I ate so many of their berries yesterday!

I stroll back over to the tent, the low boughs of fir hanging over it and looking peculiarly like the roof of my tower. Eugene is already there, his bare torso sticking out, his arm thrusting my tunic toward me. He has that expression on his face, the one that says he's trying to empathize, even while knowing he has no idea how. I appreciate the effort. To show it, I lean down and kiss him. Although I suppose I would have kissed him anyway.

I do my best to ignore Suncup's casting up of accounts a few paces away. I still haven't decided which form of morning sickness would be preferable. I have a feeling Suncup still doesn't believe that I've never thrown up in my life. For that matter, I'm not sure my parents do either, but they're at least willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. Eugene does, though. Sigh. Yet another thing that reminds me that I'm not normal.

Grey-Jay turns to us as soon as he's finished helping Suncup and says, “Ahoy, me mateys!” in a sort of gravelly voice.

Eugene and I look at each other and then back at Grey-Jay like he's lost his mind.

“Today be International Talk Like a Pirate Day!” Grey-Jay declares.

Eugene and I look at each other again. “This is another of those twenty-first century things, isn't it?” he says.

“Nay!” Grey-Jay says. “Pirates be sailin' the high seas fer centuries! In the days o' Captain Morgan an' Captain Blackbeard, aye when the brothers Morgan an' Bartholomew be layin' down the Code, these be the glory days o' piracy!”

Glory days of piracy? Is he serious?

“Look,” says Eugene, “I may not have heard of Morgan, Blackbeard, or Bartholomew, and they may or may not have sailed since my time, but I've crossed paths with pirates. I can tell you from some close personal experience that they're not nice guys.”

“Outlaw,” says Suncup, “just go with it, okay? If it makes you feel any better, I'm not sure I get it either. But my husband's having fun with it. Besides, with a trail name like Outlaw, I'd have thought you the type to have something in common with pirates. Am I wrong?”

“Uh...” Eugene sounds uncertain. It must be that pesky backstory of his. “No, not really. And no, I really don't want to talk about it. But I will tell you this...the pirates I've known didn't talk like that.”

“If ye be burstin' me bubble,” says Grey-Jay, “ye'll be walkin' the plank!”

“Walkin' the plank?” said Eugene.

Suncup sighs. “Never mind. Honey, let's just finish packing up and you can do all the piratey stuff you want while we're dealing with our resupply.”

Grey-Jay says, “Arrrr!” then goes to work as usual. Despite his efforts to have some fun—and I'm sure that's what he's doing—he's very tense about something. So is Suncup. In fact, several times over the last week or so, they've dropped back to discuss something in hushed tones. I never made out any of the words, but they sounded so...tense. Whatever it is, it's bothering both of them a great deal. Maybe all this pirate stuff is his way of trying to cover for it. But why?

I don't have a lot of time to muse on all of this before we break out of the forest beneath a brightening sky. Above, the clouds are thinning. To the east, sunbreaks stream through narrow bands of grey. To the west, it's mostly blue. It's a good thing, too. I'm still a bit disappointed at having to view Norse Peak through a cap cloud. And I'm half Norse! Fortunately, my sixth sense gave me an excellent thermal view.

Hiking beneath ski lifts is still strange to me. I've seen a few of them, of course. Echo Summit, Mt. Ashland, Timberline. People do have some odd ways of occupying their spare time in this century! Aside from the presence of ski lifts, the steady rushing of traffic on the Interstate underscores the fact that I'm in the future! Most of the time, it's easy to forget that. The trees, rocks, lakes, streams, and so on really haven't changed that much since my time and I could, in theory, travel back here after returning home and find it more or less the same. Well, except for Mt. St Helens. Oh, and there'd be no PCT, no Eagle Creek Trail, just my memory of the route that we'd forge through the wilderness! Maybe someday I'll get to go where no one has gone before.

After some discussion, which Gray-Jay's pirate speak makes a little difficult to follow, we hike all the way across the ski area to where the trail meets an access road on the north side, then through some trees to the trailhead, then follow that road into town, rather than just head straight downhill. Why? Because otherwise we would have to hike back uphill to the trail with full packs and full bellies later! Ugh!

The access road dumps us out onto...uh...some road. The map calls it Hwy. 906, but it's also NF-9041. Sigh. I wish the people responsible for naming things would just make up their minds. Suncup says it's a lot worse in, say, Portland, where the same road is called three or four different things as it goes through the city. Groan.

We pass something called The Summit at Snoqualmie, West Base Area. Gray-Jay says it's the ski lodge. Personally, I think Timberline was _much_ more attractive. The Summit lodge is kind of just...there. Right next to that is the US Forest Service Visitor Center. The future really is weird!

We consider appropriating one of their doors, but breakfast calls, so we pad on down the street. We pass some attractive-looking log-built houses. They're supposedly sort of a novelty, though in my time just about everything is built like that! Well, logs or rocks. Sometimes both. Did I mention how weird the future is?

I can smell the Summit Pancake House from across the street. My companions can hear my stomach growl in response to the food smells. It's supposed to be embarrassing, or so Mama has told me. Or, at the very least, unbecoming, unladylike, and unprincessly. After three years of settling into my life, I suppose I understand what that means, but how am I supposed to control that? Well, besides keeping food in my stomach, but that's so hard with this metabolism of mine! And stuffing my face in front of foreign dignitaries is even worse. I think people are just going to have to deal with it.

Despite all the delicious smells, there's still some debate about where to go for food. Seriously? It's food! As long as there's a lot of fat and protein, who cares where we eat it? I can't help stifling a groan as Grey-Jay enumerates on the choices. The list is mercifully short.

“So,” says Grey-Jay, “we be havin' the Summit Deli, the Summit Pancake House, The Commonwealth, Pie fer the People, an' Red Mountain Espresso.”

At first, no one says anything.

“Gaa!” I say. “Just choose one! Or I'm going to eat the next animal I see!”

Grey-Jay looks past me. “Even if it be that German shepherd over tharrr?”

I feel my eyes narrow.

“Look,” says Suncup, “Pie for the People is a pizza place, I think. And those usually don't open before lunch. Commonwealth is supposedly nice, but I've heard the portions aren't exactly hiker-sized. I say we head over to Red Mountain.”

“Why?” says Grey-Jay. “What be wrong with the pancake place?”

“I don't like the reviews I've read. Cold food...horrible service...that sort of thing.”

“Um...okay,” says Grey-Jay, dropping the pirate accent, “I appreciate that you have high expectations, but we're through-hikers.”

“Ugh!” I say. “Really? I eat _squirrels_! I don't always bother to cook it until it's on the way down! And I'm a _princess_! Do you really think I'm that picky?”

“She has a point,” says Eugene. “Most of my life, I've really only cared that it was edible. You've heard my stories and I've seen the looks on your faces, especially after I've insisted that I don't make any of it up. You wouldn't last a week in sixteen-oh-three.”

Grey-Jay sighs. “Look, we're all hungry, three of us will eat practically anything, so honey, you choose.”

“Red Mountain,” she says after a moment.

A few minutes of stamping feet and clicking poles bring us to the front of the building, also signed “Traveler's Rest.” The building even looks like it could be a futuristic version of the Snuggly Duckling. Some things just don't change.  
Once inside, the place looks just like every other espresso establishment we've seen. Well, more or less. On a wall above the service counter hangs a slab of slate with things written on it in colored chalk. Shelves support the usual assortment of coffee-related items. The ceiling is bare timbers nicely stained and finished and the floor is covered with square stone tiles.

Grey-Jay reverts back to his pirate thing. The young woman on the other side of the counter giggles and the young man next to her grins and replies in kind. I'm pretty sure I hear Suncup groan under her breath.

After ordering, it's clear we've almost cleaned them out of cinnamon rolls, chocolate-chip scones, and almost everything with eggs and bacon. They even have...or, rather had...a little bit of avocado. I love those things! Too bad I'll never see them again after returning home.

After eating, we pack up the extras we bought for later, then browse the little gift shop attached to the cafe. Grey-Jay and Suncup select a few items for their families as Christmas presents. So does Eugene. I notice the way he again peers distrustfully at U.S. currency. He doesn't say anything this time, but I know he's still thinking that it's not real money. From what I recall of what Suncup and Neil have said about how the twenty-first century global monetary system works, he's right. Money in this century isn't actually real! So _why_ do people use it? It's all just so weird!

We all walk out with arm-loads of huckleberry jam, local honey, smoked salmon, summer sausages, several bottles of what I gather to be local wine—a couple of reds, a white, a blush, something called late-harvest, and two different fruit wines—and a couple of shallow pine-needle baskets woven by some of the natives.

I'm pretty sure Howl is going to give us another lecture about causality. Seriously, though? People have been making these sorts of things for centuries. Besides, how do we know someone from Corona didn't invent, oh, late-harvest wine anyway? And if they did, maybe it's because we brought it back with us.

We all walk back northward across town toward the trail. While Grey-Jay and Suncup deal with their resupply and mailing their purchases at the Post Office attached to the Chevron—which Eugene insists should be called Chevron Inverted—we make use of an obliging door around the back of the building. Sometimes I wonder what happens if someone inside the building tries to open the door while we're using it as a portal to Wales. Even Howl doesn't know.

We receive our resupply from Megan and pass most of our purchases to her for holding, keeping a little salmon, sausage, and honey for ourselves. Howl's talking like a pirate, too, while Megan rolls her eyes at him. He periodically starts speaking in Welsh, but with that same gravelly sailor voice.

What is it with pirates anyway? After all, they're the bandits of the high seas. But, nooo, apparently they're supposed to be regarded as “Merchant marine salvage engineers, preemptive salvage specialists.” Hrmph. I'm quite sure my father would strenuously disagree.

Back on the trail, we cross I-90, Snoqualmie Mountain still looming over us, then lean into the slope. I can feel the espresso hitting my system and before long, I'm in its grip! I'm apparently very entertaining while amped up on caffeine. Suncup takes a few minutes of video while I hike backward and vibrate, chattering away like a squirrel.

We enjoy the view southward as we much on our second breakfast from just beneath the knob of Kendall Peak. The whole rest of the day, we're nearly always above timberline and it's like walking along the backbone of the world. It hasn't always been like that. In fact, along much of the trail, you would never know you were way up there. Sure, we walked along a ridge-line in a lot of places, but just the opposite in many others. Looking out at the jagged peaks as far as I can see reminds me so much of the High Sierra.

Now that we're done with our big climb, Grey-Jay regales us with a rousing song.

Out on the endless ocean, we tear along the gales  
With rum inside our bellies warm, and freedom in our sails  
A wayward bunch of scoundrels, assassins, thieves, and slaves  
The rich and blue-bloods fear us when we hunt upon the waves  
And when you see it coming, that flag of baleful black  
No point in turnin' tail, there's no escapin' our attack!

YO-HO! YO-HO! We row beneath the black flag!  
A-rollickin' we go, we own the sea and sky!  
YO-HO! YO-HO! We row beneath the black flag!  
A-rollickin' we go, we bleed the kingdoms dry!

He continues with another verse. I love the tune! The words, on the other hand...I'm not so sure. Suncup explains the historical context of what she calls the Golden Age of Piracy, especially in the Caribbean. Huh. It's very interesting! I suppose I can understand the appeal, especially after learning about what the likes of people like Edward Teach were trying to accomplish.

A small near-ridge lake makes for a great water stop. I make a mental note to ask my parents to build another rain cistern back home. I'm just so thirsty all the time!

In some places, there's a lake on one side, or the other, or even both! Or the trail swings around a bowl. But there sure is a lot of up and down! At least it's open most of the time so I can revel in the sunshine!

A dusting of early snow clings to the shadows on rocky Chikamin Mountain. It's pretty up here! Then again, I think I say that about, well, basically everywhere. I can't help it if I see the beauty in everything! The huckleberry leaves are turning red, making the vast open spaces around some of the lakes look like they're on fire.

I'm still eating everything I can find. Squirrels, birds, aquatic salamanders. Even with the many liters of olive oil, the five kilos of goat cheese, two dozen hard-boiled goose eggs, and three kilos of date-and-oat cakes the Perrys gave me, I'm still eating mountain ash berries by the fist-full, which still don't taste good, but almost don't care. We started at 3000 ft. this morning and climbed more than 2500 ft. in five miles. That's not as much as the four thousand feet over six miles out of Seiad Valley, but still.

It's nearly dark by the time we reach Delate Creek. From the foot bridge spanning the rushing waters of the creek, another burn area is visible downstream. Why is it I keep missing all the fun stuff? It would be absolutely _amazing_ to stand right in the middle of a raging forest fire!

We make camp among the trees, with the usual eye for my egress in the morning. The stream sings me to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more about Talk Like a Pirate Day, go to www.talklikeapirate.org
> 
> The song Grey-Jay sings:
> 
> http://miracleofsound.bandcamp.com/track/beneath-the-black-flag
> 
> Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, was a sort of Robin Hood of the high seas. He ran a rather egalitarian outfit, attracting a lot of people who felt severely disenfranchised by the 18th-century Establishment. Just like today, people like Blackbeard felt that the rich and powerful had accumulated too much wealth and that they'd done it dishonestly more often than not. So he set out to level the playing field, as it were. Smithsonian magazine had an excellent article on Blackbeard not too long ago.


	22. Stevens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter with a bit of trepidation and I think you'll see why. Please consider staying tuned for my End Notes, especially if you end up wondering WTF.

Firewalker's Log  
September 22, 2011  
Pear Lake  
Miles: 22 Trip miles: 2494.4

Sigh. After vaporizing yet another several hundred gallons of lake water, I'm really starting to feel a bit anxious. I mention this to Eugene and half the time he tells me, “Don't be.” The other half, he just holds me for a few minutes.  


It's been his pattern and I mentioned it to Mama a while ago. She said men are compelled to want to fix everything, when we women just want them to listen. She thinks Eugene is trying to do both. Maybe I actually need both this time.

Even after reaching Manning, I'll still have another month and a half of morning sickness. What am I going to do? It's one thing to just avoid burning people and torching the forest, especially when I'm way out here in the middle of nowhere. But when I go home? Maybe I can do the sorts of things I did when I was first adjusting to the Sun-blood. But what do I do when I board a ship? I'm supposed to sail to Arendelle for my cousin Elsa's coronation as Konigin. And then what will I do there, especially surrounded by visitors from all over Europe? How do I keep all this a secret from all of them? I only have a couple of weeks to find a solution! It's making my head hurt, if only metaphorically.

I'm also worried about Grey-Jay and Suncup. They're even more tense, but I'm hesitant to ask them about it. Maybe they'll say something. In the meantime, though, I'm determined not to let it bother me too much.

We take one last look at Lake Susan Jane before heading off. That's a pretty name. Maybe I'll give that name to a daughter.

We walk nervously beneath another set of power lines and then through yet another ski area, the trail dumping us out at Stevens Pass.

Nothing is open today. The place is apparently a mountain-biking destination during the summer, but it's closed during the week. That suits us just fine. We still have food, but we need “top off” for the remainder of our hike. We have a hundred and eighty miles to the Northern Terminus, and then another eight to Manning Park Lodge. We're doing it all on one resupply, which means nine days' worth of food. For me, that's a lot! Fortunately, I'll still be supplementing my food supply with wildlife, even though it's apparently illegal and not terribly reliable. I always manage to find things like birds, squirrels, and fish most days. And berries, of course.

Grey-Jay and Suncup announce their intention to hitch a ride into Seattle. Seattle? But Skykomish is only fourteen miles west and the Dinsmores' Hiker Haven eight miles past that. Nearly all hikers go there. They're really unhappy about it, though.

While Eugene picks a lock on a back service door to the Pacific Crest Lodge, I overhear Grey-Jay say something about their baby. I can't help myself.

“What about her?” I ask. Oops. I'm not supposed to let on that Sophie told me we're all having girls—or, at least, she's pretty sure. Revealing sensitive information is _not_ something Princesses are supposed to do.

Grey-Jay and Suncup look at each other, stricken expressions on their faces. Oh, dear. Now what?

“We're...not so sure about having this baby,” says Suncup. What's that supposed to mean?

“Isn't it a bit late for that?” I ask. “I mean, unless you miscarry. But Sophie says you're healthy...”

“It's not that,” she interrupts.

I think I'm starting to understand. “You think the rigors of the trail might be harmful, so you're taking a break from hiking.”

“Uh...not exactly,” says Grey-Jay.

“Then I'm confused...again.” That's not saying much. I've been learning as much as possible as quickly as possible, but catching up on eighteen years of missed acculturation is a _lot_ of work! I still miss an awful lot of things, many of which should be perfectly obvious to anyone who wasn't raised in isolation in a tower. On top of that, there's a whole litany of twenty-first-century stuff, which is even more confusing most of the time.

Grey-Jay exhales. His whole body seems to deflate. “Look...we're both supposed to go to school after we're finished hiking. It'll be a late start, but the Admissions people are working with us. A baby will just get in the way.”

“In the way?”

“Yeah. We'll have to work, in addition to carrying full course loads with all that studying. How are we going to take care of a baby on top of all that?”

I shrug. “I'm supposed to continue learning how to run a country and help my parents with official duties. I'm a Prinzessin twenty-four hours a day and that's on top of all the studying I still have to do. I'm the future ruler of a country! If I can handle all my work while having a baby, then so can you. Besides, it's not like you have much of a choice anyway.”

“Actually,” says Suncup slowly, “we kind of do.”

“But...there are only two ways to not be pregnant anymore. Have the baby and...” I gasped. “You're not really going to force a miscarriage, are you? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? And what about your daughter? She can't survive yet!”

Grey-Jay and Suncup just look at me.

“Who's going to take care of her while she finishes growing enough? And how?”

“No one is,” says Grey-Jay.

Then it dawns on me. I feel my eyes widen. “You're going to _kill_ her!?” I shriek.

“It's not like that,” says Suncup.

“What?! How can it _not_ be like that? She has a heartbeat!” I know, even as the words spill from my mouth, that I'm not helping. In fact, I'm probably making things worse. But for whatever reason, I don't know if I can stop.

“Um,” says Eugene from beside me. I hadn't noticed him walk up to me. “Do I want to know?” he asks.

“Eugene, they're going to kill their baby!”

Eugene looks from me to them, back to me, and then back to them. “Oh,” he says.

“Oh? Oh?! Is that all you can say?”

Eugene exhales. “Look,” he says, “I won't say I have any idea how to plan to do that or who you intend to help you do it. And I'm not sure I want to know why you're even contemplating that. But I'm pretty sure it's what's been bothering you two lately.”

So it wasn't my imagination. Leave it to Eugene to be reading people all the time.

“I don't have the authority to give you orders,” he continues, “but I will tell you this. It's a terrible idea. You're both wonderful, intelligent people and until this moment, there's never been any doubt that you'll be amazing parents. I still stand by that impression. The only reason I'm alive right now is that I'm pretty good at sizing people up, so I have...what's that term...ah, yes, a track record. Firewalker's father would agree.

“Second, you're doing it because you're afraid of all the unknowns.” He chuckles. “You should have seen the way I reacted when I found out about our own baby. I was terrified! It took me a week to calm down. When I finally did, it was because I realized I wouldn't have to do it alone. I've also seen the way Firewalker's parents look at her, the love in their eyes, the joy she brings them, the lingering pain and sorrow from all those years of separation.

“If you do this, you'll always wonder about the child that never was. You'll be wondering what color your baby's eyes would be, where they would play with their friends, what their favorite color would be, what they would do with their lives, if their through-hike would be anything like yours, whom they'd marry, what your grandchildren would be like. It'll drive you crazy! I know because I've lived most of my life like that. Always wondering, what if my parents hadn't drowned? What if they were actually alive after all and still looking for me? What if I hadn't grown up in an orphanage?

“You've obviously thought about how having your baby now will affect your lives and your plans. But I have the impression you haven't thought about how not having your baby will affect you. I was deprived of a family. Firewalker's parents were, too, and it nearly destroyed them. And we all know plenty of people who had their families, even everyone they ever knew, taken from them in one way or another. That's a kind of pain that never fully heals. Trust me, you do _not_ want to do all that to yourselves.

“Maybe you don't know how to be parents. Actually...we have no idea, either! Neither do my parents-in-law, when it comes to that. But we have people to advise us. In fact, I have it on good authority that you'll have no shortage of people who will give you advice, and they'll do it without you even asking!

“Like I said, I can't tell you what to do. But either way, you _will_ have to live with it and believe me, I know far more about living with my choices than you might imagine.

“Now, you're probably going to...what's that term...hitch a ride into Seattle anyway, and probably because people seldom change each other's minds so easily. But you really should think very hard about all this while you're on the way. As much as it still terrifies me in some ways, I want my child. I think down inside, you want yours too.”

The ensuing silence is so pregnant, it practically gives birth while we're waiting.

At length, Grey-Jay and Suncup turn wordlessly and walk slowly away.

Eugene and I watch them go, then head silently down the trail. We pass through forest for a while before stopping at Lake Valhalla for a meal. It's a pretty lake, with its clear water, reddening foliage near its edge, and Lichtenburg Mountain rising above it. But I'm still too upset to really enjoy it.

“Rapunzel?” says Eugene.

“What?” I snap.

“It's still bothering you.”

“Of course it's bothering me!” I yell.

“You need to...”

“Don't tell me what I need.”

“But...”

I grab him by the shirt collar. “They're going to murder our grand-niece!” I snarl.

Eugene blinks, his jaw half open. “Wh...what?”

I look at him for several moments. “I said, they're going to murder our grand-niece. They're threatening my family.”

“They're...related?”

“My unborn sister is their great, great, great, great....a bunch of greats grandmother.”

“Oh.” Eugene gently takes my wrists in his hands and slowly lowers them. “Then I hope I managed to talk them out of it,” he says evenly.

I cock an eyebrow. “Talk them out of it?”

Eugene exhales slowly. “Look, it bothers me, too. Why anyone would want to do that is so far beyond me, I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around it. But what was I supposed to do? Summon the police and have Peter and Josephine charged with conspiracy to commit murder? Sit on them for the next seven and a half months? Kidnap them until their baby's born?

“I think we both know that would never work. The police would have asked for our personal information and you and I have been dead or missing for more than three hundred years. Officially, we don't exist. Never mind that I have no idea what the laws of the United States say about this sort of thing.

“Sitting on them is tantamount to holding them hostage, which is impractical for more reasons than I can count on one hand. And kidnapping them...please tell me I don't even have to start with that.”

I look into his eyes for a few moments. “You think I handled that badly, don't you?”

Eugene sighs, then gently takes my shoulders. “Rapunzel,” he says softly, “one of the things I love about you is that you lead with your heart. Yes, your parents insist you need to moderate that, or at least be more careful about how and when you express it. And from a practical perspective, I think they're right.

“But there's no shame in being horrified over something that deeply bothers you. Is your...outburst...going to change what our grand-niece and grand-nephew intend to do? I have no idea. I watched their faces and their body language very closely, especially when they went and climbed into that...what do you call it...SUV.

“I think they're mainly afraid, and fear motivates people to do things they otherwise wouldn't. I've seen it more times than I can count. I've seen people do all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons, some of them good, some of them bad, some of them a little of both. I've seen them have to choose between equally distasteful options, damned if they do and damned if they don't. The world is a very muddy place. Whatever any of us does, whether good, bad, both, or neither, one thing will always be universally true. And that's, like the song says, what you do today you have to sleep with tonight. One way or another.

“Grey-Jay and Suncup are very strong individuals with a lot of courage and I'm not sure they really see it yet. Personally, I don't think they're going to go through with it.”

I feel myself deflate. “I hope you're right.”

“So do I, my love, so do I.”

We spend much of the rest of the day walking briskly through conifer forest. My hope is renewed, if only a little, though I'm unsure if it's because of Eugene's words, or the pleasant, calming effect of all the greenery. Something tells me, the whole thing with Peter and Josephine is going to be weighing on my mind to some extent or another for a very, very long time.

We arrive at Pear Lake just as the sun dips past Fortune Mountain rising above the lake's western shore. We follow a side trail and make camp beside a wide meadowy area on the lake's northeastern shore. I'm more emotionally exhausted than anything and I soon fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The subject is, of course, a very touchy one. And regardless of what you the reader or I the writer think and feel about it, or how it may or may not be regulated or legislated, it's always going to be intensely personal.
> 
> I wrote this into the story for two reasons. First, there's a brief exchange between Peter and Rapunzel in "Corona Reborn" so I felt compelled to expound on that. Second, I felt like confronting the issue, if only partially. I recognize that it's complicated, far more so than will fit into all those Internet memes we've all come to know and loathe.
> 
> Characters, like real people, are always a product of their time and place. So I tried to reflect that in how each handled the thing. It's something that's always tricky when dealing with characters from another time--how do we as writers make our characters temporally believable, but also accessible to a modern audience?
> 
> Above all, my intention is not to anger anyone, nor advance or detract from any particular position on the subject. Rather, I tried to touch on a couple of things that seem to be neglected in most discussions on the issue. Even so, I'm sure my own biases bleed through the page, as invariably happens in fiction writing. Heck, it happens in non-fiction writing, too.
> 
> Anyway, so there ya go. As always, I invite civilized comments and discussion.


	23. Manning

Outlaw's Log  
September 28, 2011  
Miles: 23 Trip miles: 2656.2 

Rapunzel wakes me during her egress, as usual. I don't mind...usually. But boy, am I going to be glad when she finishes with the morning sickness!

I can tell just from the way the pre-dawn grey falls on the tent that there was more snow overnight. That, and the way the roof subtly sags near the ground. I pry myself out, Firewalker's tunic in-hand, and step into snow halfway to ankle-deep. No problem. Navigating early-season snow isn't nearly as tricky as late-season snow-pack.

Soon, we're on our way. Our feet make a sort of muffled thudding in the snow. Everything else is utterly silent. We spend much of the day above timberline. By noon, the slightly warming air and a promising sunny afternoon begin to melt some of the snow. Yet aside from the thump-shush-squish of our footsteps, the tapping of our poles, and our breathing, there's no other sound. We're not even close enough to the trees to hear the dripping of snowmelt falling to the ground.

We have lunch at a large flat area identified only as “Campsite” in the PCT Atlas. A mostly dry log beneath fir and defoliating larch boughs provides a place to sit. We munch on the usual trail food. Rapunzel finally persuades me to try one of the aquatic salamanders she caught and dried several lakes back. There's not much meat on one. Otherwise, it tastes kind of like frog.

We continue to descend through open forest. Despite what the map says, it's all trees. We hit the last set of switchbacks almost at a run. I don't know why we're in such a hurry. Maybe we've just developed the habit of doing that when hiking downhill. Boy, that's going to confuse people back home.

Rapunzel skids around the final switchback south of the Northern Terminus, her feet slipping on fallen larch needles and the slushy remains of the night's snowfall. She pauses to catch her breath.

“Rapunzel? Are you alright?” I ask.

She nods. “Ja. It's just a little further, isn't it?”

I nod. “Just around that curve in the trail.”

Rapunzel gazes toward the tread as it vanishes behind the tree trunks, just as we have more times than we can count since we first set foot on the PCT more than two thousand, six hundred miles ago. It's somehow different this time. The final bend, the one that will all but end our journey.

“Is something bothering you?” I ask.

She sighs. “It's just...that I remember telling you that our hike is a metaphor for our marriage. And now...now it's almost over. Then what?”

I chuckle.

“What? It's not funny.”

“No. Of course it isn't. You sound like a hiker.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Dearest, I _am_ a hiker.”

“I meant in the sense that most hikers are so focused on their journey, that very few of them have any idea what they're going to do once they're off the trail. You've heard the same stories I have. About the people who have finished their schooling only to discover that the markets for occupations in their fields have dried up, or they've completely lost interest in what they've spent a few years training to do. Or they lose their job, or their spouse, or a child.

“So once they've finished hiking, many of them don't have anything to go back _to_. Or at least they feel that way. We do have something waiting for us. We have people who love us and lives to live. We know exactly what we're going to be doing and why. We have our life's work ahead of us and we know exactly what that is. And it's all good and all meaningful and I can't imagine anything else.”

She sighs. “You're right. It just feels...strange. And no, I don't feel like our marriage is going to end when we step past that monument.”

“I wasn't even thinking it.”

“Even for a second?”

“Well...not beyond a guess that you were thinking that. At least in terms of the metaphor. But I thought your metaphor had more to do with enjoying the journey.”

“Oh. Right.” She chuckles. “It was my metaphor and I lost track of just what it was I was...uh...metaphor-ing.”

I chuckle. “It isn't over until it's over. And for what it's worth, I _have_ been enjoying the journey. And some day, fifty years from now, when one of us is on our death bed, we'll look back on our life together just like we look back on our hike and say, 'That was wild!'”

Rapunzel manages a giggle.

Less than a hundred paces bring us to the Northern Terminus Monument 78, its white-painted wooden posts exactly like the Southern Terminus monument. Like that one, 78 stands several meters away from the border. By international treaty, neither Canada nor the United States is allowed to have any structure of any kind within three meters of the border line, with the exception of crossing portals.

Rapunzel steps slowly up to it, her arm outstretched. Incrementally, she closes the distance, her fingers first brushing against the wood, then resting on it. She sighs deeply. I join her moments later, the wood rough, the completion of our hike now more tangible than ever.

“Well,” she says soberly, “we're here. It's over.”

I grunt assent. “So it is.”

“I feel...I don't know what I feel.”

We sit, leaning wordlessly against the monument while we munch on pemmican cakes and the last of the meat from the bear Rapunzel killed last week, occasionally casting meaningful glances at one another.

The trail into Manning Park follows Princess Creek, though it initially stays to a higher, forested route. We cross a bridge over Chuchuwanteen Creek, then make camp near its confluence with Similkameen River in the failing light. The white noise is enough to drown out the paltry traffic on the road across the river. I think I can count on one hand the number of vehicles I hear, and most of them before dusk.

In our mixed-up emotional states, Rapunzel and I make each other glow. As I lay there, basking in it, I think back on all the things that happened to us on the trail. The scenery, the people, the weather, the changes to ourselves both physically and mentally. Some of it rushes through my mind's eye as though I'm watching one of those moving pictures at high speed. I have a feeling that will happen for a long time to come, that I'll close my eyes and see something from the trail.

I wonder if this future will exist once the two of us return to our time. After all, back in our time, Rapunzel and I have disappeared and Corona had no other heir. I don't want to know what this world's history is like. Oddly, both Peter and Josephine existed in this time, even when Rapunzel's parents were present. Causality makes my head hurt.

 

Outlaw's Log  
Manning Park Resort  
September 29, 2011  
Miles: 3

After Rapunzel's discharge near the river's edge, we both strip down and take a very cold bath. It's quite bracing. If I weren't already awake, I am now! It leads to some, uh, water glowing. I love being married!

The trailhead parking area is deserted, which is not surprising considering the weather. We walk along the Crowsnest Hwy, quickly covering the distance to the resort, and make a bee-line to the Pinewoods Dining Room.

I recognize the moment Rapunzel sees the word, “buffet.” She grins like a madwoman, rubbing her hands together, and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

I chuckle. “I suppose it's a good thing we polished off our trail food, then.”

Rapunzel nods enthusiastically.

“Wait,” I say, digging into my hip pouch, “do we have...ah. Of course.” I pull out a small wad of Canadian currency and shake my head slowly.

“Don't say it,” Rapunzel mutters.

“Don't say what?” I say, feigning innocence.

“That thing about money.”

“Oh, you mean that it's...”

Rapunzel grabs me by my pack straps and stops my mouth with a kiss.

“Ja, that,” she says, once she lets me up. She's so cute.

Just as everywhere else on the trail, the wait staff are terrified, but trying to hide it. There are days I wish I hadn't developed such a well-tuned ability to read people. On the other hand, if I hadn't, I'd have been dead many times over.

The food at the buffet is much like every other we've seen. Except that it's all what people here call “breakfast” food. I've long since given up. As far as I'm concerned, if it can be eaten for breakfast, it's a breakfast food. I'm sure Rapunzel would agree. The other difference is that Canadians apparently have a somewhat British influence, for much of what we see is similar to the sorts of things Megan has put in our resupplies. Rapunzel and I are particularly fond of anything that's a meat pasty. And eggs!

We sit across from each other, carefully and methodically eating the first plate of food. Our eyes occasionally meet and I catch a twinkle in hers. The day I stole her crown, I knew my life was going to radically change. I had no idea it would turn out this way. She really is my new dream, the dream I never knew I had, and one from which I hope never to awaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! What a trek! Both theirs as the hikers and mine as the writer. One of the most enjoyable parts of this project was writing about places I've been and things I've seen there. For those parts of the PCT I haven't hiked, I drew on fragments of other hikers' journals, photos, maps, etc. Very little about the PCT itself is made up. It's all real and all out there waiting for you to go hike it, either in whole or in part.
> 
> To this day, I have no idea what compelled me to write Eugene and Rapunzel hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. There have been a few hikers over the years who've through-hiked the PCT for their honeymoons...no, I am not making this up. I also don't remember when I decided that Grey-Jay is actually Peter Jones from the Emberverse books. Otherwise, the cast of characters reflects the sorts of people you'll meet out on the trail, with their quirks and their often-amusing trail names.
> 
> I'd considered writing a bit of an Epilogue in which they spend a couple of weeks unwinding with Howl's family in Wales. But I figured that at well over 100,000 words, it was about time to reach the trailhead already, as it were. I hope you enjoyed reading this and that you didn't feel compelled to curse me the way a hiker curses the mosquitoes of the High Sierra, or the loose lava rock on Belknap Crater, or the interminable switchbacks of scores of ascents and descents all along the trail.


End file.
